


Goldenrod and Emerald

by jeremy_bearimy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Biphobia, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Male My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, Minor Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz, Minor Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Hapi, Minor Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia, Minor Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Minor Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary, Minor Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor Ferdinand von Aegir/Marianne von Edmund, Minor Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Raphael Kirsten, Minor Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Leonie Pinelli, Racism, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 86,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26666527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeremy_bearimy/pseuds/jeremy_bearimy
Summary: We are all pearls in a strand. As we learn and as we grow, more pearls are added to the string.You are born. You earn a pearl with your first breath.You are named. Your name is written on another.Every experience, every moment that makes you who you are, it is added to your strand.“Two pearls are trying to occupy the same place on your strand, sweet Khalid.”
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 38
Kudos: 96





	1. Almost Green

**_Day 20 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_All is dark._ **

His hair is almost green.

Green hair and pale skin isn’t anything he’d ever seen in Almyra, but this stranger, this mercenary, is unique. He isn’t blatantly green, not like Rhea and Flayn and Seteth or Linhardt, but there is a hint in his dark hair, a black with a shift to blue-green.

But once the fighting is over, that’s the first thing he notices. Almost green hair, fair porcelain skin, deep blue eyes, a blank expression settled on such soft features.

Except the fighting isn’t over and this stranger has inhumanly fast reflexes, deflecting an attack on Edelgard with ease.

There’s something special about him, but Claude can’t put his finger on it.

—

**_Day 22 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1165_ **

**_The sun is bright._ **

We are all pearls in a strand. As we learn and as we grow, more pearls are added to the string.

You are born. You earn a pearl with your first breath.

You are named. Your name is written on another.

Every experience, every moment that makes you who you are, it is added to your strand.

“Two pearls are trying to occupy the same place on your strand, sweet Khalid.”

It’s why he’s sick all the time, that must be it. The strand of his life needs to know if he’s from Fódlan or if he’s from Almyra. The fever will burn him alive unless he knows.

“Please, save my boy.”

His mother sobs over him, begging for him to get better.

There can only be one pearl on the strand. His father makes the decision. Almyra. He places a wyvern egg in his sickbed.

And his fever goes down.

Yousef was rumored to become his heir, an Almyran indisputably, until their father bestowed his eldest, the sick boy, with a wyvern egg.

His pearl in the shape of a wyvern egg, emerald green as the scales on the shell.

—

**_Day 24 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1172_ **

**_The sun is low._ **

_ “Khalid! It’s time for bed! Leave that lizard alone!” _

He is ten years-old today. His father presented him as his heir just this morning, bedecked in a stuffy tunic in a shade of emerald his mother chose, covered up in a cape of shimmering gold as is tradition.

It should have been a momentous and celebratory occasion, the way it was with his father and his father’s father. Perhaps it would have been, were his mother anyone else, if he were one of his half-brothers.

As it happened, the procession through the streets of the capital was more like a walk of shame as a prisoner approached the gallows.

He was spit on. He was called a half-breed and a pale face and a battery of other slurs. His cape was torn as someone tried to rip it from his shoulders while proclaiming that he wasn’t worthy.

He couldn’t cry or scream or run away. He had to be strong, or at least pretend he is. He had to smile, though the smile never reached his eyes. It never has. 

While they were away during the ceremony and the luncheon and the dinner, his “lizard”, his beloved wyvern Aisha, was attacked. Both of her wings, slashed to ribbons.

He couldn’t cry then either. He could only locate the housekeeper’s sewing kit and set to work, trying his best to fix the damage somehow.

Aisha has been his since the day she hatched. She’s the only friend he’s ever had. He doesn’t want to leave her. 

He doesn’t respond to his mother calling him in. He curls up beside his wyvern, clutching his bow, his customary knife on his belt, ready to defend her if her attacker is foolish enough to strike twice.

—

**_Day 30 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The air is still._ **

_ “Piqued your interest, have I? As luck would have it, I'm pretty curious about you as well. But what's life without a bit of mystery? Let's just spend the next year or so learning about each other, little by little.” _

Curiosity puts it lightly. Claude isn’t able to take his eyes off of this newcomer to Garreg Mach. He would wager that he is as interested in the new professor as Leonie is interested in the professor’s father.

As luck would have it, this interesting figure is curious about the Golden Deer as a whole - he chooses to teach them over the others.

If Hanneman or Manuela were his professor, he might be worried about the mock battle, but having a mercenary as his professor? They have it made.

Claude isn’t the only one to find him intriguing. The Golden Deer aren’t the only ones fawning over him. The entire monastery is interested in the former captain and his son. 

_ “I wonder how old he is.” _

_ “I wonder if he ever smiles.” _

_ “Having Captain Jeralt as a father must be a dream.” _

_ “The professor himself is a dream.” _

_ “Dimitri said he’s fearless when he fights.” _

_ “He’s so cute.” _

_ “Alois idolizes Jeralt.” _

_ “Alois isn’t the only one.” _

_ “Shut up, Hilda.” _

One thing is for certain — with the arrival of the mercs, Claude is no longer the only outsider at Garreg Mach.

—

**_Day 25 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1172_ **

_ “You’ll think twice before disobeying your mother now, Khalid.” _

He doesn’t get any assistance in treating his wounds aside from the comforting presence of Aisha. She nuzzles him lovingly, a welcome distraction as he pours antiseptic into the holes where chunks were taken out of his skin.

It bubbles and hisses and it stings, but he can’t let out the tears that threaten to spill forth.

Crying is a sign of weakness and he is not weak. He can’t allow himself to be weak. If he’s weak, he’s exactly what everyone says he is. 

Fódlan breeds cowards. Fódlan breeds animals. Fódlan breeds filth.

If he cries, he deserves to be spit on, he deserves the nasty slurs, he deserves to be dragged behind a horse.

Once the wounds are healed and dressed, he lies down in the rough grass beside his wyvern, beside his only friend.

He stares up at the stars and sighs. It’s comforting to imagine there’s someone just as miserable staring up at the night sky, hoping things get better.

“Wanna fly away together?” he asks Aisha. “Once your wings are healed, we can go anywhere. Fódlan, Dagda, Brigid, Sreng… Would you like that?”

She walks in a circle before lying down beside him, resting her heavy head on his chest. He runs a hand over her emerald scales, seeking comfort from the only creature he’s sure loves him.


	2. Great Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude meets his grandfather and plants some seeds with his new professor.

**_Day 28 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1178_ **

**_The air is cool._ **

He takes a deep breath. In, then out. In… 

He collapses to the floor. He stares at the ceiling and his breath does come.

The woman who located him and escorted him here, a woman named Judith, stares at him from the doorway.

“Are you going to just lie there?”

He strongly considers it. It would be so easy to just remain on the floor and starve to death over a long period of time. It would be preferable to the terrifying notion of meeting his grandfather for the first time.

Meeting new people is something he hates. Everyone dislikes him, due to circumstances beyond his control. He wishes he could be wholly one thing instead of being in a sort of limbo. He doesn’t belong anywhere. He’ll always be an outsider to  _ someone _ . He’ll always have to struggle with putting one pearl on the strand when two are battling it out.

His worst fears are confirmed when he meets his grandfather.

“You’re lucky Judith thought to search for my daughter’s tainted offspring. If it weren’t for your Crest, I would have sent your disgraceful personage back to Almyra. It was hard enough that my son died, but his replacement as my heir is a revolting half-breed.”

This is his family. Outside of his parents, it’s the only family he’s got. And he’s hated.

“If you breathe a word of your origins to anyone, I will have you replaced. If word gets out that my heir is an animal, I would rather my line die out before openly passing it to a filthy Almyran.”

He can’t cry. He has to smile, with his mouth and nothing else. He bows and says, “It’s an honor to be chosen as your heir, my liege.”

Somehow, Derdriu might be lonelier than life in Almyra.

—

**_Day 11 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The sun is warm._ **

Teach is a difficult man to nail down. Once Claude briefed him on some of the day-to-day procedures, he disappeared.

It’s frustrating, to say the least. Claude wants to get to know him, see what lies beneath that blank canvas he wears as a mask. He’s a mystery that Claude wants so desperately to solve.

Sure, he said they’d get to know one another little by little, but he’d expected to at least get a  _ moment  _ in before he disappeared into thin air.

“Looking for someone?” Hilda asks, sounding far too pleased with herself. She’s likely just delegated some work to someone else.

“Have you seen Teach?”

Everyone else calls him Professor, but he doesn’t seem at all affected by Claude’s casual nickname. Maybe part of the reason Claude calls him something less respectful is a way of testing Teach and his limits. He doesn’t seem like anything would rattle him.

“I think he was wandering around trying to see what’s what,” Hilda tells him. “Maybe check with Jeralt if you can’t find him.”

He thanks his friend and goes on the hunt for Teach. He’s sure he’s searched every part of the monastery, but Claude locates him on the bridge to the cathedral after two hours of looking for him.

“Do you know of the Aegir family? We have long held the position of prime minister in the Empire. The Empire's power lies with six noble families, my family foremost among them. The full explanation may be time-consuming. I can give you a moment to get ready, if you would like to take notes.”

Claude snorts, leaning against the railing a ways away, close enough to hear, but far enough to be ignored.

He’s shocked that Teach takes out a notepad and quill.

“I'm ready.”

“All right. I will list the six great noble families. There's Caspar's father, Count Bergliez, the Minister of Military Affairs. Then there's Linhardt's father, Count Hevring, the Minister of Domestic Affairs. Beradetta's father, Count Varley, is the Minister of Religious Affairs.” 

End it. Now. He’s talking so much. 

“Hubert's father, Marquis Vestra, is the Minister of the Imperial Household. Finally we have Duke Gerth, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and my own father, Duke Aegir, the Prime Minister.” 

Claude might jump from this bridge if he has to hear Ferdinand say one more thing 

“One day, I will take his place as the prime minister of the Empire. I am more talented than anyone in my class — even Edelgard. I will lead the Empire to a bright, enlightened future.”

“I look forward to that,” Teach says, returning his paper and quill back into his pocket.

“There is nothing I cannot achieve,” Ferdinand declares. He might actually kill himself trying to outdo Edelgard. Claude sure hopes he doesn’t.

Teach continues his walk toward the cathedral and Claude jogs after him, giving Ferdinand a wave as he passes.

“Hey, Teach!”

Claude wasn’t expecting him to stop and turn around and he runs straight into him, knocking them both to the stone.

“Hey, Teach,” he repeats with a flush, springing to his feet and offering a hand to the man he knocked to the ground.

Even  _ that _ didn’t fluster Teach in the slightest. Still the same blank expression.

“Hey, Teach,” he says for a third time, letting it fall out of his mouth. “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’ve found me.”

Claude blushes again. “I, uh, just wanted to offer my services again. If you need anything, I’m your guy.”

“Thank you, Claude. I will call upon you if I need any guidance.”

“No doubt, no doubt,” he says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good. I’ll see you around then. Hopefully I don’t knock you down next time.” He winks and immediately regrets it.  _ Stop being such a doofus, dumbass. _ “Bye, Teach!”

Good Goddess, that was embarrassing.  _ What a fucking dork. _ That probably set back his investigation into his professor by a lot. 

He still has quite a bit of time. The rest of the year, really. Maybe things will get rolling once they clean out those bandits.

—

**_Day 31 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The sun is hot._ **

“Hey, Teach. On the way back, you seemed transfixed by the canyon. Did something happen there?” Claude asks, searching his professor’s face intently. He’s in his head about  _ something _ . This is the perfect time to unwrap the onion that is Teach. One layer down, a ton to go?

“Actually…” he says, saying nothing more. A man of few words. Somehow Claude reads him perfectly.

“It seemed familiar to you? Huh. Can't say the same. Maybe it's a memory from when you were a child. Or from a past life. Anyway, if you can't remember, I guess there isn't really much more to be said,” Claude says, reading Teach’s face for any sort of clues. “Although, I'll admit, there is something about that canyon that has me captivated as well. How did Zanado come to be called the Red Canyon? Nothing there was actually red.” Teach shrugs and Claude unconsciously mirrors his movement. “Guess we’ll be left wondering. Maybe there’s some clue in the library…”

“You are there an awful lot,” Teach comments. “I doubt you are studying for my class.”

Claude laughs, genuinely laughs. “You’re not wrong, Teach. No, I’m busy reading the books that Seteth  _ hasn’t  _ confiscated from me before he can do so.”

“Why don’t you just take the books back to your room?”

“I—” Oh. Now that’s… “I never thought of that. Great idea.”

“It is my job to teach you, is it not?”

“It’s in the name, Teach.”

—

**_Day 30 of the Garland Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The air is balmy._ **

“Nice work, Teach. Still, that fight left a foul taste in my mouth. That aside, did you see how Catherine fought?” Claude asks with eagerness. He’s been dying to talk about how bloody  _ cool  _ that was with someone and Teach is the first one he finds.

“She's incredible,” Teach remarks.

“Agreed. I thought the power of the Heroes' Relics must be exaggerated, but I was clearly wrong. Makes you wonder about that legend…”

“What legend?”

It’s not just his face that’s a blank slate — he is like a newborn baby in regards to knowledge about what’s going on in the world. He’s smart and intuitive and talented, but utterly oblivious.

“Oh, it's nothing. Just the usual fanciful nonsense. An ancient Relic that once cut a mountain in half with a single swing. That's what they say, anyway. But as amazing as Thunderbrand is, I don't think it fits that description. Apparently, Relics can harness tremendous power for those with a compatible Crest. Though you can technically use one so long as you have any Crest at all. I dunno. Long story short, I'd like to try cutting a mountain in half someday.”

Oh, he wishes he could. He might have to, sword or not. How in the hell is he going to be king of Almyra and sovereign duke of the Alliance? How can he unite two peoples that hate each other so intensely?

Teach tilts his head curiously at his remark. One can forget they’re looking at a hardened mercenary when he looks so innocent and sweet.

Hilda skips over, a real pep in her step after a winning battle. “Ooh! Are you talking about Relics? You'll be able to wield one soon, Claude! I just know it! After all, you've already been selected as the next head of House Riegan!”

“Easy there, Hilda. I don't know how apt ‘soon’ is. My grandfather is still unbearably healthy.” There’s the head tilt of innocence. “Oh? Is this news to you, Teach? Yours truly was recently recognized as a legitimate child of House Riegan. They possess one of the Heroes' Relics too, though I've yet to see it.”

“Just recently?” The head tilt returns. He might as well keep it tilted with the pattern that’s been established.

“I officially joined House Riegan only last year. Before then, I lived with my father. House Riegan is on my mother's side of the family. When I learned that my mother was the daughter of an Alliance noble, I was so surprised I thought the whole world was pulling a fast one on me for a week.”

“So that means your mother is Duke Riegan's daughter, right? Where is she now?” Hilda asks, giving voice to Teach’s tilting head.

“I can't say. My mother's currently living in a different world than the one she grew up in and has no desire to return home.”

The first queen of a king with eight, getting cursed for her origins. Yeah, living the dream. Part of Claude wishes she’d cut and run with him years ago. They’d be better off, even if his grandfather hates him.

“Um, okay. You sure have a lot of secrets, don't you?” Hilda asks.

“I'm just keeping a promise to my parents. Make of that whatever you will. In exchange for my so-called secrecy, I'm free to do as I please, which is why I decided to see what the other side of my family was like. That's how I found out about this strange Crest I bear…”

Not really. He was sought out because of his Crest and brought here after being exiled by his father. He really  _ does  _ have a lot of secrets, doesn’t he? So many secrets and not a confidant in sight. Maybe Teach? Do professors have that sort of confidentiality people have with their attorneys and priests? Maybe someday.

—

**_Day 30 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1178_ **

**_The sky is open._ **

Derdriu is a gorgeous city despite the whispers and stares as Claude walks past. He stands out in a country of folks with lily-white skin. Not  _ exactly  _ in a bad way, but he’s definitely not from around here.

He was hoping that the way kids shouted “pale face” at him would make it easier for him to blend in, but he supposes he’s not that pale relative to the residents of Derdriu.

“Almyran beast,” someone hisses as he walks past.

Right. Same shit, different location. How could they even tell?

_ Don’t cry, Khalid. Be strong. _


	3. Are You One of Them?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude might have a small obsession.

**_Day 12 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The sky is overcast._ **

Hilda wants to do lunch with Claude and Marianne. As leader of the house, he can’t exactly refuse, right? He wanted to talk with Teach after class, but his classmates take precedence over his fascination with his professor.

“It's… delicious,” Marianne says quietly.

“I know! So tasty. It would be nice if you spoke up once in a while, though,” Hilda says brightly. “What do you think, Claude?”

“About our soft-spoken friend or the food?” he asks with a coy grin. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Both are lovely. She’s right, Marianne. You’re smart and kind and what you have to say has value.”

Marianne blushes furiously and won’t look either of them in the eye. 

“On another topic, I think you might be obsessed with the professor,” Hilda accuses.

“What?” Claude asks, feigning offense. Maybe he  _ is  _ a little too obvious in his pursuit of answers. Not that Teach notices or cares. 

“The reason I asked you to lunch is so you’d stop interrogating him,” Hilda replies. “He’s just a guy, Claude.”

“You’re not curious about how oblivious he is to things like Crests and Heroes’ Relics and the Tragedy of Duscur? He’s fascinating. How do you live in Fódlan your whole life and not know  _ anything  _ about it? He barely even knew about the three nations on the continent. He’s a mystery and I’m looking forward to finding out exactly what his deal is.”

“Why don’t you ask Jeralt?” Marianne asks in a soft voice.

He never really considered that, but he’s sure Teach’s father would be evasive. Fathers usually are in Claude’s experience.

“Last resort,” he decides. “Besides, it might be fun to get to know the guy in charge of educating us.”

“Don’t bother him  _ too  _ much,” Hilda requests. “Got it?”

“Fine, fine,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender. “Right, ladies, lunch was fantastic. I’ll see you later, kids.”

“Kids? I’m older than you!” Hilda points out, folding her arms across her chest. 

He gives her a wink as he takes his tray away.

—

“Hey, Teach. I see you’re as stony-faced as usual,” Claude says, sitting on the edge of his professor’s desk, watching him grade papers. Except he stopped, even before Claude showed up. His quill is capped and everything. “Hmm. I can’t tell if you’re feeling resigned or if you’re just lost in thought. Or maybe you simply don’t care about anything that’s going on.”

The stony expression changes the slightest bit, a quirked eyebrow. “Oh… Sorry. I really didn’t mean to be rude. I just find you fascinating. Actually, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about. Can you spare some time?”

“Sure.” One word. Brevity.

“That’s just the sort of attitude I’d expect from a new teacher!” he proclaims with a smile. It ends on his cheeks. “Speaking of, before you came here, you were a mercenary, right? Always getting your hands dirty on the battlefield and whatnot? It’s a bit unusual that you suddenly decided to become a teacher one day. In any case, I’ve been meaning to ask. Did your father teach you how to fight?”

He’s practiced this line of questioning in the mirror. He’s practiced several conversations with Teach in the mirror. He’s a bit predictable with his short answers and Claude is able to fill in the blanks easily enough. He’s even got a response for ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to this particular conversation. Here he is, not being genuine, but genuineness has no place in him. He’s had to wear a mask his whole life, that’s not going to change because he’s a little obsessed with getting to know his fellow enigma that he’s actually rehearsing.

“Yes, he did,” his professor replies. 

Ah, option A of the conversation. Claude directs his line of questioning down that branch.

“I figured. Your father used to lead the knights, didn’t he? And I hear he was a legendary mercenary as well. It must have been hard on your mother when you followed in your father’s footsteps and became a mercenary too.”

This one is a little harder to predict. There are a multitude of responses Teach could give, but Claude tried his hardest to prepare for every possibility.

“I never knew my mother.”

Option E.

“I see. I suppose you grew up moving from battlefield to battlefield with your father then. You know, for someone who’s right around the same age as me, you certainly have an unusual amount of composure. I guess it’s only natural that you’d be different from young nobles who grew up in the lap of luxury.”

“You don’t seem like a noble either,” Teach says. 

Claude has no response to that planned. Time to make something up on the fly.

“Well, even so, I am heir to House Riegan, the leading family of the Alliance. But I didn’t exactly grow up in luxury like most people of noble blood.” 

Even for a crown prince, he lived simply. He and his mother lived in a small home adjacent to the palace because she didn’t  _ want  _ him to be raised similarly to her. She didn’t want him to be a noble. She wanted him to just be a kid. 

“Hey, maybe that’s why you and I get along so well. Folks like us should stick together. As house leader, I’ll do all I can to help you out. We can start by making time for more little chats like this.”

“I would like that, Claude.”

Oh. He hadn’t quite anticipated that. He expected a ‘sure’ or a ‘that’s fine.’ But he didn’t think he’d actually  _ like  _ to get to know Claude. Nobody has ever  _ liked _ to get to know him. His classmates try, but Claude has to guard himself so nobody figures out who exactly he is. Maybe he’ll eventually be himself around this fellow outcast.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude grows up.

**_Day 24 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The sun glows bright._ **

“Happy birthday, Claude,” Teach says, holding out a single yellow flower. “Dedue showed me around all the flowers in the greenhouse. I thought goldenrod would fit a Golden Deer.”

“Thanks, Teach,” Claude says self-consciously. “Didn’t think anyone remembered.”

“Seteth gave me a list of birthdays.” Oh. “I circled yours on my calendar.”  _ Oh. _

“Well, that means a lot. Thank you.”

Teach looks like he’s going to say something, then stops. Then starts, then stops. Finally, he asks, “Would you like to have tea with me?”

Claude is gobsmacked. He cares enough to single out his birthday  _ and  _ asks him to tea. Claude feels something and he can’t put his finger on exactly what. This throws Claude off his game. He never planned for something like this.  _ He’s supposed to have a plan for everything. _

“I would like to have tea with you,” he agrees.

They fall into step together as they walk from the classroom to the gazebo. Teach disappears for a second, citing a need to get water from the dining hall. Sure enough, he appears just a few moments later with a teapot and a tray of snacks.

“It's a nice smell. I think I love chamomile the most,” Claude says as it steeps.

“Hilda said she sees you drinking it a lot,” Teach says, downplaying the significance of the choice. Oh. He even went out of his way to find a tea he likes. Claude  _ really  _ doesn’t have a plan for this. He has a plan for everything, but his Teach inviting him for tea was so far out of the realm of possibility.

He feels oddly bashful about the whole thing. “Do you really have time for this? I know how busy you are.”

“I make allowances in my schedule. This was important to me.”

“May I ask  _ why? _ ”

“You were very helpful to me when I first arrived. I’m not sure I would have adjusted as well were you not my house leader. My only memory was the life of a mercenary. Going from mercenary work to teaching was an odd transition that I still find myself struggling with. I wanted to thank you for helping me.”

That’s the most he’s heard Teach say at once. Maybe Claude has started to chisel away at that stony exterior? At least  _ that  _ is going to plan.

“Of course, Teach. Us outsiders gotta look out for one another, right?”

Teach tilts his head. “I suppose we do.”

Claude nods, the corner of his lips upturned the slightest bit. Yeah, this feels right.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Teach says, slipping a hand into his cloak. He produces a small jar labeled ‘exotic spice blend’. “A gift.”

“And here I thought flowers and tea were a treat,” Claude says. “This is great. Thanks. I truly mean it.”

“You commented that the food in the dining hall is bland so I thought…”

Claude is beyond touched. His heart aches with something he’s never felt before. Fondness for another human being. He smiles, genuinely smiles.

“Your smile is quite striking. I do believe this is the first time it’s reached your eyes,” Teach remarks. “I wish you smiled like this more.”

Claude’s heart hammers hard in his chest. He had not anticipated any of this when he woke up in the morning.

This may be his best birthday yet.

—

**_Day 24 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1176_ **

**_The oasis is warm._ **

It’s just him, his mother, and Aisha celebrating his fourteenth birthday. They took the wyvern to the middle of the desert with a picnic lunch. Nobody else cares enough about him to celebrate, save for Nader. He gave him a new bow and a quiver of silver-tipped arrows. It was an act of kindness that he’d never experienced and if he were allowed to cry, he would have.

“My sweet Khalid, what are we going to do about your hair?” his mother asks, running a hand through the unruly mop he has growing on his head. He’s been meaning to cut it, but he gets distracted by a good book and then loses most of the day reading.

“I’ve been considering letting Aisha take care of it,” he jokes. “How mad would your husband be if I showed up with a cut that suggested I let a wyvern munch on my hair?”

“Oh, he’d be furious. You know exactly what he’d do.”

His father would order some poor servant to fix it and then drag him behind a horse. Typical kingly bullshit.

“I don’t have any friends,” he says abruptly. “Safiya was the closest thing I had to a friend, but Queen Ranya made us stop being friends. She’s my sister, she should be allowed to be my friend.”

“Until you’re king, people are going to be disapproving of you, my darling Khalid. It’s my own fault.”

“It’s  _ your husband’s _ fault. He enables it.”

“Stop calling him my husband. He is your father, Khalid, and you need to respect him.”

“Maybe I will when I stop feeling like a stranger in my own home.”

“Khalid—”

“Why do you insist on raising me differently from the others? That’s probably the reason. We live in what used to be servants’ quarters while my half-siblings live in the height of luxury. It’s not fair that I… I know you just want me to be a normal kid, but I’m never going to  _ be  _ normal here. Sometimes I feel like you and your husband shouldn’t have had kids.”

He can’t spare his mother a look because he’s sure if he did, he’d stop saying what needs to be said. “Neither of you know what I go through. People respect you because you take no shit and I try to be like that and yet I get shit on every single day. It’s miserable. I hate my life. A lot of the time, I wish I was dead. If it weren’t for Aisha, I’d have killed myself years ago.”

He spares a glance at his mother and sees her weeping silently. “I had no idea you felt this way, Khalid.”

“Yeah, well, I do. All the time. Every day,” he admits, fiddling with a loose thread on his pants. “Part of me wishes I could leave and go somewhere else. Sreng or Brigid or something. Someplace where it doesn’t matter that I’m two pearls trying to occupy the same space on a single strand. But then they’d win. I’d be the Fódlan coward they think I am. I’m stuck.”

Aisha can sense his inner turmoil and nuzzles him. He pats her on the snout to thank her for her continued friendship.

Before now, he’s never seen his mother cry, yet he can’t bring himself to feel guilty about it.  _ He’s _ the one who’s suicidal, not her. 

If he’s not allowed to cry, she shouldn’t be either.

—

She tells her husband. He is dragged behind a horse for making her cry. 

He has to grit his teeth and bear it as his parents laugh at him. He would have thought his mother would be more empathetic after telling her what he’s been feeling his whole life, but evidently not. Evidently he’s just a spectacle of human misery.

He spends the late hours of the night pouring antiseptic into his wounds and cursing his misfortune at being born. 


	5. Detective von Riegan (and his partner Teach)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Teach solve a caper.

**_Day 25 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The wind is howling._ **

“Claude?”

Shit. Terrible timing.

“Hey, Teach! Hold on a minute, okay? I’m gonna have this cleared up in no time,” he says, considering covering up his books and papers, but deciding he’d rather just finish up.

“Need some help?” Teach asks, popping his head through the door.

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll be finished soon. I’m just in the middle of mixing up a new poison,” he admits, finding no point in lying to the man. “And… done! What do you think of that, Teach? A colorless, odorless poison! Say… care to test it out for me?”

“What does it do?” Teach inquires, taking the vial of clear liquid and turning it over in his fingertips.

“In two days’ time you’ll have a terrible case of… let’s call it stomach trouble. It’s a peaceful poison, so you’ll live, but you’ll certainly be inconvenienced,” he explains. 

Of course, Teach probably has more questions, but knowing him, he’s not going to ask. Claude can plan for those lulls in conversation quite easily.

“I hear your silent question, Teach. Why the delay? That’s so it can be used even if you don’t have access to the target when you need the poison to take effect. Um, naturally, I have no immediate plans for this stuff! I suppose I just felt like broadening the ol’ horizons a bit. When devising schemes, it’s best to have as many options at your disposal as possible. Expanding those options is kind of a hobby for me.”

Teach tilts his head to the side. “Why such a dangerous hobby?”

“Well, I grew up in an environment where it was necessary to think that way. It’s like I told you before, I wasn’t born into a life of luxury. Ever since I was a child, I’ve always been seen as… different from those around me. An outsider of sorts. I’ve been resented and hated. There have even been attempts on my life. I don’t believe I’ve earned such treatment, but that’s how it goes for people like me.”

“I don’t think of you as an outsider.”

“Thanks, Teach. You know, in many ways I’m just a normal person like everyone else. But in the right environment, anyone could be seen as an outsider. It can become…overwhelming. That’s why I kept running. Kept fighting. As a kid I spent a lot of time licking my wounds and coming up with schemes, trying to keep my nose out of trouble while plotting against my enemies. My parents always told me I wouldn’t grow stronger if I didn’t learn to fight my own battles. And so, in the end, I did. And I grew up to be as independent and self-reliant as my parents always wished for me to be. Lucky me, right?”

He can’t count on anyone. Not really. He has to look out for himself because nobody else will. That’s how it’s been his whole life. Except for maybe Nader. The way Alois regards Teach reminds Claude a little bit of the way Nader regards him. Almost avuncular.

“You’ve been through a lot. You grew up well,” Teach says admiringly. Oh. That’s… nice. That’s a very nice thing to say. Despite the birthday tea the day before, Claude is still surprised by the depths of Teach’s kindness.

“If anyone knows what I’m talking about, it must be you, eh, Teach? I get the feeling you know what it’s like to be an outsider. The moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you weren’t like everyone else. People don’t care for folks like that… You’d do well to watch your back. On the bright side, that’s also part of the reason that I find you so interesting.”

“Do  _ you _ care for folks like that? Beyond thinking they’re interesting. Do you care?”

Teach probably doesn’t mean for that to be such a deep, probing question, but it strips Claude bare. He feels exposed and a little bit uncomfortable.

“Yes,” he admits. “I think it would have been a bit more of a commiserating way before, but I think now that I actually know another outsider… Yeah, I care.”  _ About you _ is unspoken. 

Claude’s afraid of attachment. He’s never had anyone to attach  _ to. _ This man with his stony face and kind eyes is as frightening as a beast in that Claude can see himself becoming so attached to the first person to invite him to tea. Attachment, even to a fellow outsider, might run counter to his dream. What if he has to choose between his dream of a world without barriers and Teach?

—

**_Day 26 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The air is unseasonably cool._ **

_ Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. _

That sword. That’s the one that can cleave a mountain in half — Claude’s sure of it. It glows, it can stop magic in its tracks. It’s not like Thunderbrand. It’s so much  _ more. _ It’s the Sword of the Creator.

_ The Sword of the Creator… Pulled right from the legends. I finally found it, and yet it ended up in Teach's hands. Could I even use it anyway? Damn it. There's no telling what's to come… _

He looks at the blade in Teach’s hand and Teach’s face and sees that it’s yet to wash over him the significance of what’s come to pass.

“Hey,” Claude says, knocking their shoulders together, “if you need any help navigating whatever this means, I’m here for you, Teach.”

“Thank you, Claude. That means the world.”

Claude feels a bubbling in his stomach at the words.  _ Did he accidentally ingest the stomach poison? _ No, that’s not the kind of bubbling it is. He’s not sure exactly what it is. Teach trusts him and Claude seeks what he has for his own gain. That’s… not okay. 

—

**_Day 7 of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The sun is out._ **

“No sign of her leaving the monastery, eh? That is, assuming we can actually trust that information…” Claude murmurs.

“Oh, but I'm sure this space has no shortage of secret passages and hiding spots!” Hilda replies, smacking him in the shoulder.

“True. For now, there's not much we can do aside from making a thorough search of the monastery.”

“Let's ask around and see what we turn up. You never know who might have seen something,” Hilda says.

Of course she means Claude and Teach should look around. She’s always pushing her work off onto other people, so this shouldn’t prove any different.

“I wish we could do more for Flayn, but since we've got no leads, our only option is to search the monastery with a fine-tooth comb. Someone must know something. Let’s go together. It might be easier to get information out of people if we do good guard, bad guard,” Claude says with a grin. 

“Obviously you’ll be the charismatic good guard and the professor will be the stony-faced bad guard. No offense, Professor,” Hilda says with a sly smile.

“None taken,” he replies, something warm hinting in his voice.

“Then let’s go.”

—

“A beautiful, delicate maiden vanishing into thin air... It is like something out of a book. If it were a book, we would have no need to worry! She would be rescued presently by a dashing nobleman. Do you have any idea as to where she might be? Where she might have wandered off to?”

Claude wants so desperately to roll his eyes at Ferdinand. He can be such a knob sometimes.

“Perhaps she went looking for treats?” Teach asks, instantly deducing what brought Ferdinand to the dining hall. Genius. Teach is a genius.

“That is what I thought! Why I am here, in fact. But she is nowhere to be seen,” Ferdinand responds with a frown.

“Thanks, man,” Claude says with a nod. “We’re gonna look elsewhere.”

“Let me know once you’ve found her.”

“I’m sure Seteth will shout it from the rooftops.”

Raphael is in line for food and waves to them. He seems like he might have some ideas.

“I hope Flayn isn't going hungry. If someone really kidnapped her, I'll never forgive them! Now that I think about it, I saw Alois hanging out by the pond not too long ago. He was always getting into trouble for trying to talk to Flayn, you know. It's probably a crazy thought, but I'm starting to worry.”

Aha. An actual lead. Kick rocks, Ferdinand von Aegir.

—

“Hey there, Professor, Claude. Did you want to talk?” Alois asks, a big smile on his face as always.

“We’ve spoken to some people around the monastery and heard that you were suspect,” Claude says.

Alois’s smile fades entirely. “What?! Me, abduct Flayn?! You can't really believe I did that!”

“We hear she was always yelling at you…” Claude remarks.

“Oh, that's just because of my dumb jokes. She says that they're not very good. But if I went around kidnapping everyone who said that, the whole monastery would be empty!”

That checks out. His puns  _ are  _ terrible. 

“Did you find anything in the pond?” Teach asks, tilting his head.

“Well, this may sound silly, but… I was too scared to even look. I couldn't bear the thought of finding her in its depths.”

Claude can understand that. It’s scary to think she might be drowned in the bottom of a lake, but they truly have no way of knowing if she’s dead or just missing.

— 

Linhardt proves a bit more useful than Ferdinand too.

“Hey, von Hevring,” Claude calls. “I’m Detective von Riegan and this is my partner Teach. You seen Flayn anywhere?”

“Flayn? No, I haven't seen her. She's been abducted.”

Teach raises a brow and tilts his head. “Do you have any clues?” 

“Oh, you're  _ looking _ for her. Sorry, my mind was somewhere else. I just recently learned she has a Crest. Did you know that, Professor? If it was a particularly rare Crest, I could imagine Professor Hanneman would have quite an intense interest in her.”

“Oh, really?” Claude asks, hand on his chin, deep in thought.

“Oh, no, I'm not accusing Professor Hanneman of abducting Flayn.”

“Thank you for your help. It’s been…  _ illuminating _ ,” Teach says.

— 

“Professor Hanneman — I’m Detective von Riegan and this is my partner Teach. We’re looking for Flayn.”

“Yes, young Flayn's disappearance is most troubling.” 

“We’ve heard that you might have an interest in her,” Claude says.

“What? Who would suspect me? You know what? I'll tell you who. A fool. That's who.”

Teach folds his arms across his chest. “Is her Crest rare enough to justify kidnapping her?” Oh yeah, bad guard is poking out of that stony exterior.

“Flayn's Crest, the Major Crest of Cethleann, is rare, but there are others who possess it. Linhardt possesses the Minor Crest.”

“So you haven’t already investigated her thoroughly?” Teach inquires.

“Alas, Seteth would never allow that.”

“That checks out,” Claude confirms. “Thank you, Professor Hanneman. We might have questions for you later, so don’t leave the monastery.”

“I hope you find her soon.”

“Us too,” Teach says solemnly.

As they walk through the stables, Teach says, “Petra said something about Shamir. She’s not from Fódlan.”

“People from other places are innately suspicious?” Claude asks, his hackles about to go up.

“No, of course not. Obviously not in the slightest. It’s still a lead to investigate though.”

That calms Claude. He’s not prejudiced in the way that most in Fódlan are. He’s just exploring every avenue.

“Petra saw her in the marketplace. Let us away.”

—

Manuela is missing, Jeritza’s been swinging his sword weird, Gilbert is obsessed with Annette, Tomas has been asking about her. Jeritza is nowhere to be seen either. 

“Maybe your dad has information on Manuela. The infirmary is right next to the captain’s quarters,” Claude suggests.

“Let’s go see my father, then.”

The trek is mostly silent, but it’s a comfortable silence. Teach is calming.

“Hey, Captain Jeralt, I’m Detective von Riegan, this is my partner Teach.”

Jeralt chuckles and Claude looks over to see Teach blushing at his father’s amusement. It’s a little bit cute.

“Detective, eh? Looking for Flayn?” Jeralt asks.

“Yes,” Teach replies.

“Because of Flayn's disappearance, all of the knights are searching nonstop. But we haven't found a single lead. Seteth's face is getting paler by the minute. It's hard to watch.”

“Have you seen Manuela?” Teach asks. 

“You're looking for Manuela? Well, I did pass by her earlier. She was carrying something. A mask of some sort…”

“Jeritza's mask?” Claude asks, the puzzle pieces just about to slot together.

“I'm not close to the guy, so I can't say for sure. But come to think of it, you could be right.”

Claude and Teach share a look. 

“Professor Manuela ran off with Professor Jeritza's mask? What could that possibly mean?” Claude wonders aloud.

“It’s suspicious. Sounds like we should try talking to them.” 

“Well, Jeritza is always in the training grounds or his quarters. We’ve already been in the training grounds, so he must be—”

“— in his quarters,” Teach completes.

There’s another look of amusement on Jeralt’s face. Claude’s not sure what to make of it. Is he more amused by Claude or by Teach? Or maybe them both? Claude’s never considered myself part of a  _ we  _ before, but are  _ we  _ making Jeralt smirk? He looks at Teach and decides that, yeah, there’s an  _ us  _ there. Two outsiders make quite the pair.

—

They find Flayn. Flayn and some other girl.

Claude is ecstatic. They fulfilled their mission and Teach looks happy. He looks _ happy. _ He’s smiling. 

“You know, Teach, seeing you smile sure makes me feel better. You look happy for a change.”

Teach tilts his head, though his smile doesn’t falter. “What do you—”

“Hm? Do you really not know? Well, truth is, I've never seen you smile before now. At times, it made me wonder whether you were even human. But I suppose that was just my imagination running wild.”

“Do I really not smile?”

“Not that I’ve seen. I’m sure your dad has seen it loads of times. Anyhow, we've probably kept Seteth waiting about as long as he can stand. Let's hurry up and tell him the great news.”

“I’m human. I promise,” Teach says with a small frown.

“Of course you are. I was just being silly.”

“People have called me an Ashen Demon in the past.”

Oh, that breaks Claude’s heart. He’s been called a demon himself in the past and he wouldn’t wish the anguish that causes on anyone. “I didn’t think you were a demon. I swear.”

He feels like such an ass. He stole the smile off of Teach’s face. Now Teach looks like someone kicked his puppy.

“It’s okay. You didn’t mean any harm,  _ Detective. _ ” There’s that smile again as he knocks his elbow against Claude’s.

Claude, he smiles back, the light dazzling in his eyes.


	6. Buy the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude learns to dance.

**_Day 15 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The sun is bright._ **

“Professor!”

Although he’s not the one being called, Claude’s head shoots up to spy his green-haired classmate speed-walking over to Teach’s desk. Claude pretends he’s working on his essay, but he’s listening intently to whatever Flayn is asking of their professor.

Claude has no reason to feel jealous, but he feels a pang of  _ something _ in his chest whenever someone engages Teach in a one-on-one activity. Whether it’s cooking with Dedue, a trip to the sauna with Yuri, fishing with Alois, or gardening with Ashe, it stings.  _ Claude  _ wants to be the one to unravel the mystery that is their professor, so when he spends individual time with anyone — especially when he chooses to spend time with anyone outside of their class — it wounds him in the most embarrassing way. He’s never felt so possessive over a living creature since Aisha.

“What is it, Flayn?” Teach asks, his voice gentle and smooth. 

Since he’s started smiling more, there’s been a warmth creeping into the timbre of his voice. Claude hears it most often when he speaks to the younger students, a quirk most admirable. In such uncertain, violent times, the younger students need reassurance.

“I’m nervous about the competition tomorrow. I would be happy for some more dancing guidance, should you have any!”

If it’s going to be anything like the practice from two days ago, it will be the funniest thing in the world. Neither of them can dance, but Flayn was the only one to volunteer. It would be even more surprising if Teach said he  _ has _ danced before because it was  _ so bad _ . Maybe it would have been more acceptable in Almyra, where dancing isn’t formal in the slightest. As far as Fódlan goes…

“I’m sure it would be a lot more helpful if we got a noble to help us,” Teach suggests. “Have you seen Hilda anywhere around?”

“Claude’s right there,” she says brightly.

Claude  _ just  _ misses the chance to avoid eye contact.

“Claude, do you dance?” Teach asks, a different warmth tinging his voice. Oh, this is his teasing voice.

He hems and haws, going over various excuses in his brain, though most of them are about not being from Fódlan and  _ that’s _ not something Flayn needs to tell her brother.  _ Her brother! _ That’s it!

“Not sure I want Seteth to see me dancing with his darling sis. His mind will go to the worst case scenario, as if I was Sylvain or something.”

“You don’t have to  _ actually  _ dance with me. The competition has us dancing with an invisible partner,” Flayn offers brightly. “I am simply eager to improve my dancing.”

Claude can’t say no, not with the eager smile on her face or the raised eyebrow on Teach’s.

“Well, in that case, it’d be my honor to help lead the Golden Deer to victory.”

—

“One, two, three, four,” Teach says over and over, counting out Flayn’s steps.

Claude’s presence hasn’t been at all necessary, but he’s enjoying the time with Teach and Flayn. Apart from their victory at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, Claude’s never seen Teach smile so much.

He never bares his teeth when he smiles, but that almost makes it more meaningful. He doesn’t smile for show, not like Claude does the majority of the time. Teach smiles because he is genuinely happy.

“Having fun?” Claude whispers, gently knocking his elbow against Teach’s. The smile grows slightly wider.

“I am,” Teach replies, a warmth in his tone returning. It’s not the same warmth as his kind or teasing voices. It’s something different, but Claude can’t seem to put his finger on it.

—

**_Day 24 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1179_ **

**_A warm night has fallen._ **

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He has never felt as self-conscious as he feels right now. As far as birthdays go, this can’t be worse than his tenth. Can it?

There are marked similarities. Primarily, the presentation as the heir of one place or another. At least this isn’t a long walk through the capital, getting spit on and having slurs thrown at him. He wonders if they’d do the same here if they knew. It wasn’t that awful when he was a random face in a crowd, but this is so different.

No use dwelling on that. He’s a dead man if it gets out here. He’s a dead man if he tries to go back to Almyra regardless of how things shake out in Fódlan.

One breath in, one breath out. Over and over and over. He stares at the back of Judith’s head and finds it oddly comforting. She’s wholly unworried by the entire event. She knows who he is and where he’s from and she doesn’t care in the slightest.

“Would they hate me if they knew?” he asks, the words tumbling out of his mouth against his own wishes.  _ Great job not dwelling, idiot. _

“Yes,” she replies, not even sparing a look back at him. “They wouldn’t be so open with it as they are where you’re from, but they would not respect you. The only person who’d be so frank about how much they hate you is your delightful grandfather.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“I don’t know you well enough to know if I hate you. I’m not the type to hate someone for things beyond their control, but I’m not like most. Your biggest detractors here would come from your own people. The Kingdom and Empire don’t have the same relationship with Almyra. The frequent skirmishes along the border have resulted in massive fatalities for the Alliance.”

He swallows the lump in his throat as he struggles to keep breathing, in and out and in and out.

“I can’t— No,” he says, stopping in place, shaking his head, “I can’t do this. I can’t. I—”

Judith turns around and places both hands on his shoulders. “Pull yourself together, boy. There’s no turning back now.”

He clamps a hand over his mouth, willing away the sob that threatens to spill forth from his chest. He has never in his life felt such anxiety.

“Judith, I—”

“You _have_ _to_ do this.”

“I’ll just run away to… to somewhere. Not here, not there, anywhere else. Somewhere my skin isn’t too light or and it isn’t too dark and my name and family don’t matter and I’m not hated for just  _ existing _ . Judith, help me run away. Please.”

“Running away isn’t an option.” The bell rings eight times and his breaths come shallow and fast and he’s about to collapse from lightheadedness, but Judith lightly slaps him and tilts his chin up to look her in the eyes. “You get one minute, boy. Get your shit together.”

He takes every second of that one minute to catch his breath, but not cry. He can’t cry. When Judith calls time, he clears his throat and shakes out his limbs and rolls his neck. 

He’s never panicked like that. He could never cry back home, not in front of the people, not in front of his parents. He didn’t cry in this narrow hallway, but he allowed himself to show emotion in front of the only person to show him genuine kindness, blunt as she is.

Upon his arrival to the banquet room, his grandfather proclaims him as his heir. “On his 17th birthday, I would introduce my grandson and heir, bearer of a minor Crest of Riegan — Claude von Riegan.”

_ Claude _ . It was his alias upon arrival, but now it’s official. Even his name is no longer his own. Nobody will ever call him Khalid again.

—

**_Day 16 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The day is sunny._ **

“My practice was not in vain! Professor, we did it! Me, you, and Claude — together! Did you enjoy my dance moves?”

“Very impressive, Flayn,” Teach says warmly. 

“I must go tell my brother!” she decides, running off in that direction. 

It leaves Teach to walk back to the classroom alone with Claude. They fall into step immediately, sharing in a comfortable silence until an arm abruptly shoots out in front of him. Teach has stopped him midstep and it immediately activates Claude’s fight-or-flight response. 

Once he recognizes that they are  _ not  _ in any sort of danger, Claude relaxes a little and looks down. It’s an owl feather and Claude almost stepped on it.

It’s pure white, what he imagines snow looks like, freshly fallen off one of the birds flying around the monastery. 

Without a word, Teach bends over to pick it up and tucks it into the brooch attaching Claude’s cape to his coat.

“Thank you for helping Flayn.” There’s that unplaceable warmth in his voice again. “I appreciate it.”

“I didn’t do it for Flayn,” comes out of Claude’s mouth before his brain gets a chance to filter it out.  _ Real smooth, man _ . “I mean, I did it for you, so you know how to dance for the ball. Gotta make sure our fearless leader looks good.”

“Thank you. Whatever your reasoning, thank you.”

As friendly as he is with the rest of the Golden Deer, he’s never felt as close to anyone like he feels for Teach. The last time he had such a friendship was before Aisha’s death.

The intrigue from their first meeting morphed into a desire to use Teach’s power to wield the Sword of the Creator in the interest of his dream. From there, it’s morphed into something else entirely. He wants a friend, not a pawn. He’s almost certain Teach would share his dream if he was forthright about it.

He smiles. Claude smiles back, the smile reaching his eyes the way Teach likes.

—

**_Day 25 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The night air is humid._ **

Claude doesn’t know what possesses him to extend his hand, but he does. Teach looks at him,  _ stares  _ at him. He almost regrets putting his hand out, but Teach only stares for a moment before slipping his own hand into Claude’s. 

He leads him out to the dance floor, still unsure of  _ what the actual fuck _ he’s doing. To compound the way his stomach flips into knots as he tries to justify this to himself, he feels self-conscious. They are the only pair of men out there among countless opposite-sex pairs. He feels eyes on them, but more intensely, he feels Teach’s hands on him, warm and grounding as he leads.

Ah. Maybe he should have paid a little more attention to Flayn’s practice. He has experience in leading thanks to his traumatic 17th birthday celebration, but he’s never been led. Despite Claude’s awkward fumbling, Teach is smooth and fluid, just as he is on the battlefield.

When it comes time in the dance for a twirl and dip, somehow Teach’s grace makes up for Claude’s two left feet. Once he’s upright, his face is close to his professor’s, close enough to  _ really _ look into his eyes for the first time. He always knew they were blue, but they’re big and bright and the color of a starry night sky. He’s a beautiful man. He must take after his mother quite a bit because there is nothing of the grizzled old captain in his eyes.

This better not awaken anything in him.

—

“Oh. Hey, Teach. What brings you to the Goddess Tower? You know what, never mind. The answer is as clear as day. You couldn’t bear the ball anymore and simply had to escape,” Claude surmises, folding his arms across his chest.

Based on the look on his professor’s face, he’s right on the money. Still, he says, “I wouldn’t say that…”

“There’s nothing wrong with admitting you’re not comfortable in a noisy crowd.”

“I just needed a break,” he concedes, looking down at his shoes.

“Really, I get it. I’m the same way,” Claude says reassuringly. 

“Seriously? I don’t believe it.”

Claude laughs, replying, “See right through me, do you?”

“I think we’ve known one another long enough for me to know you’re not exactly shy.”

Ah. He’s been too good at masking his actual emotions, his fears, his anxieties. If even Teach can’t see the real him, he’s swung too far in the other direction.

“I really do mean it,” he insists. “Parties aren’t for me. Music and fun are all well and good, but those dances the nobles do are… something else. I was never really taught to do that sort of thing. My upbringing was… lacking in certain ways.”

Teach raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Even though you’re heir to the Alliance?”

“Even so. I may have secured a fancy new title, but who I am on the inside… Well, status alone can’t change that. That’s a bit of an aside, though. Say, Teach… have you heard the legends about this tower?”

“I believe I have,” he responds warmly, “though I’d appreciate you refreshing my memory.”

“They say if a man and a woman pray for the same thing here, on this night, the goddess will grant their wish without fail.”

“Why tonight?”

“Who knows? Maybe it has something to do with celebrating the anniversary of the monastery’s completion. Maybe the goddess comes down from above on this night and this night alone to celebrate with us. Even goddesses like to party, right?” Claude laughs at his own joke. “The truth is that it’s just a legend the students here like to tell. It’s not based on any real facts.”

“Then why did I find  _ you  _ here?” Teach challenges. “If you don’t believe in the legend, why was  _ this  _ the place you left the ball to be?”

Claude laughs self-consciously. “That’s a good question,” he admits, “but I don’t have a real answer. I just felt sort of drawn here.”

“I did too,” Teach admits, a small smile on his lips.

“If it’s just a legend, why does it have to be a man and a woman?”

“Pardon?”

“If you want, maybe we could… I mean, I suppose it would be a waste to pass up a chance of having our wish granted. What do you say, Teach? Care to try?”

Goddess kill him now. He’s never been so clunky and awkward at interacting with Teach before. He’s self-conscious and, man, is it showing.

“What would we pray for?” Teach asks, his eyes glittering with unease.

“Hm… Let’s see… How about we pray for our ambitions to come true? You don’t exactly seem like the selfish type, but even you must have an ambition or two. Even if you’re not aware of it, I’m sure there’s something your heart of hearts wishes for.”

“You’re right, I’m not aware of it. But you’re right in being sure there’s something.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, no one is ever completely satisfied. Everyone has something they long for. Otherwise, what’s the point of it all? Of course, the same goes for me. Without even realizing it, I found myself holding tight to some pretty big ambitions. If you would… I would love for you to share in those ambitions with me, Teach.”

Claude has never struggled to find his footing in an interaction since arriving at Garreg Mach. He’s channeled all of his anxiety into coquettish and easy conversation up until now, when he’s baring even the slightest sliver of his soul to someone else. He’s never felt safe enough to do that with anyone. 

The closest he came was his 17th birthday, when he almost fainted in front of Judith. He’s not worried about Teach scolding him or calling him ‘boy’. He feels  _ okay _ letting himself get a little flustered because he knows he isn’t going to be judged by his professor.

“But all that aside, let’s get started. Let’s pray to the goddess before she tuckers out for the evening. Okay… Here goes,” he says, shaking off the awkwardness. “Oh, divine Goddess! Hear our prayers! We beseech you and your radiance! Please, grant us that which we seek!” Teach shakes his head in amusement. “Huh. I think that should do it. The goddess’ll make our dreams come true now, yeah?”

“I wonder,” Teach murmurs.

“At any rate, we’ve done all we can. Whether we actually believe our dreams will come true or not is up to us. I suppose we should head back soon. I’m sure everyone is looking for you.”

“I’m certain the rest of the Golden Deer are missing their leader,” Teach says. 

He’s probably right, though Claude hates the idea of entertaining any sort of vanity. They’re a bunch who’ve rallied around their house leader and, to a greater extent, their professor. 

Hilda and Lysithea are probably saving a dance for each of them. He can imagine Hilda prodding Marianne to dance. Lysithea is probably dancing with every boy to make herself seem older and more worldly. Lorenz is likely proposing a dance to every noble lady there. Raphael is undoubtedly at the snack table where Ignatz is probably daydreaming. Leonie is probably sulking at the fact she’s been made to wear something formal  _ and  _ the fact that Captain Jeralt is off on a mission from the Archbishop. She would’ve loved the chance to ask that particular Knight of Seiros to dance.

“We  _ should _ go see your charges, shouldn’t we?” Claude says with a grin.

“I can only hope they aren’t causing too much trouble.”

“Unless Raphael eating all the hors d'oeuvres is trouble, we’re fine for a little while longer.”

“Care to stargaze with me?”

_ Yes, _ he wants to say. He wants to tell him all about looking skyward as a kid, about the way the stars make him feel that anything is possible.

He wants to say  _ yes _ , but his fear says no.


	7. Never Let Me Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude shares a secret as Byleth suffers a crippling blow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for implied CSA. Just skip the last section, Day 5 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1180, if necessary

**_Day 2 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_Heavy rain._ **

“I thought I might find you here, Teach.”

The man looks miserable. It’s not surprising. Jeralt was his whole world for most of his life. Claude’s not very close to his own father, but he’d be a wreck if he died so suddenly. By that measure, Claude’s not all that surprised that Teach looks like he’s on the verge of tears, tears that have fallen off and on based on the redness of his eyes.

“Not the type to wallow in solitude, eh? That's a relief, let me tell you. So… What were you reading? Is that Jeralt's…” 

“Diary.”

His voice is so broken. He’s a man of little words on a good day, so summoning the strength to even speak at all… 

“So it is.”

He wanted answers about his past. Jeralt was going to answer them all upon his return, but it was so sudden that they were sent to the chapel. He’s left with questions that don’t have answers. Unless…

“Hey, maybe this has some entries from when Jeralt left the monastery.”

Teach nods. So it does.

“Is that so… He was the captain of the knights, but something made him leave the monastery in a hurry. If it has something to do with your birth, knowing what happened may get us closer to knowing what secrets the church is hiding… Teach… Would you mind letting me read that diary? I know how important it is to you, but I'm not asking lightly. Please, allow me to borrow it.”

He feels like an ass for even asking, but he has some of the same burning questions that Teach himself does. He almost expects him to say no.

“You may borrow it.”

A ripple of surprise must flicker through his expression because Teach takes his hand, pressing the journal into it. 

“I'm forever in your debt, Teach.”

He nods, small little nods, over and over and over again before completely falling to pieces. Claude is startled. He doesn’t know what to do, so he closes the gap between them and pulls him tight.

It’s what he always wanted when he was in pain, but it’s something he never got. Claude never realized how touch-starved he’s been his entire life until just now, holding his professor in his arms as he falls apart, trying so desperately to keep the pieces together.

It feels like an eternity until Teach’s body stops racking with sobs, until he extricates himself from Claude’s grip, wiping away a few tears.

“I’m sorry. That was unprofessional.”

Claude’s mouth falls open the slightest bit in surprise. Teach is mourning the loss of his father and he’s  _ apologizing _ for Claude’s attempt to comfort him.

“I’m sorry I touched you without asking.”

Claude witnessed him flinch once when Alois touched his shoulder, watched him startle as Hilda threw her arms around him for deflecting a surely fatal blow from striking her back. The guy clearly has issues with being touched unexpectedly, but Claude just  _ assumed _ —

“No. It’s… You have a message, don’t you?”

Right. He wasn’t just here to inappropriately ask to borrow his recently deceased father’s diary.

“Rhea dispatched the knights to various locations in a frantic search for the enemy. There's a rumor that she's already secured some information. Something big is gonna happen soon. That has me wondering… If you find out where the enemy is, what will you do about it? If you ask, I— no, scratch that,  _ all _ of us students would gladly lend a hand. Even if it means going against Rhea's wishes. Don't forget it.”

“Thank you. I mean that,” he says softly, wiping another tear away. His cheeks, normally such a pristine shade of porcelain, are blotchy and red and it’s… humanizing. He doesn’t seem like such a mystery anymore. He’s just a man. A man with the same fears and pains as any other. He’s just a man and he’s Claude’s friend. Oh. They’re friends, aren’t they?

“Of course. I’ve always got your back, Teach.”

“I’d like to read some more of his diary before relinquishing it, if you don’t mind.”

“Take as long as you need. You’ve sought answers to your questions far longer than I have.”

“We could read it together. Would you like to come to my quarters tonight?”

“Were you anyone else, I’d assume that was a come on,” Claude says, hoping to add some levity to such a heavy conversation.

It works. Teach’s flush isn’t from crying at this moment, pairing oh so well with the slight bashful smile on his face.

“Apologies.”

“It’s alright. I’ll be by your room later then.” Claude reaches out to wipe away an errant tear on Teach’s cheek with the sleeve of his shirt. “Think you can put on a brave face for the troops?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You  _ always  _ have a choice.”

—

**_Day 12 of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1176_ **

**_The wind is howling._ **

She’s dead. Her emerald scales no longer glisten, but are spattered with her blood and the blood of the attacker she killed. 

It must have been a group. Someone has been torn in half, a man he’s seen in the square many times, but someone else finished her off. There’s a lance through her neck.

He falls to his knees. He wants to cry. He needs her. The only one who’s ever comforted him was Aisha. She’s been his best and only friend for so many years. He raised her from a hatchling. She was his world and now she’s been slaughtered.

_ “Don’t cry, Khalid.” _

_ “It is unbecoming of a prince.” _

That’s the closest thing he gets to a comforting word or a soothing touch. Just a ‘ _ don’t cry’  _ from his mother. An  _ ‘it is unbecoming’ _ from his father.

He wants to be hugged, he wants to be held as he sobs, as he mourns for the only creature who would comfort him in times of trouble. He wants to be allowed to cry.

He wants her back. He wishes he could turn back time, to make sure he’s there for her, to protect her from those who wished to hurt him. Whoever it is succeeded — he feels a hole in his heart.

He’s not sure he’ll ever recover.

—

**_Day 3 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The moonlight is dim._ **

Claude waits until midnight to sneak out to his professor’s room. The fewer eyes that might see him, the better. The rumor mill would get churning if someone witnessed him slipping into his young professor’s quarters after hours.

Their relationship is far from  _ that _ . No, they’re best friends. At least, Teach is Claude’s best friend. He’s not sure if he’s Teach’s best friend. Jeralt was probably his best and only friend growing up.

He knocks softly, not wanting to alert Teach’s neighbor. A quiet  _ ‘come in’  _ filters through.

He slowly, quietly turns the knob, gently shutting the door behind him.

Claude is still fully dressed, down to his cape (and owl feather), but Teach is in his monastery-mandated pajamas. Maybe he should’ve dressed down too.

He is on his back in bed, reading a book on fishing, though he sets it aside to sit up. He beckons Claude to sit down beside him, rather than at his desk.

Seriously, were this anyone else, he would think this was a come on.

He feels almost honored that Teach is so comfortable with them touching, their legs flush with one another as they sit side by side. Claude’s seen him get uncomfortable with unannounced touching, but it seems that holding him tight while he sobbed changed things with him and Claude. Or maybe it was the dance?

Whatever it is, it makes it easier to read the journal together.

_ Day 24 of the Red Wolf Moon. All is cloudy. I can't believe she's dead. Lady Rhea said she died during childbirth. But is that the truth? And still, the child she traded her life for doesn't make a sound. Didn't even cry at birth. _

“That’s my birthday,” Teach says. 

“That baby is you.”

“I wish he put the year on these entries…”

Right. He doesn’t even know for certain how old he is.

“Maybe we’ll find some other clues,” Claude suggests. “Then we’ll know.”

_ Day 29 of the Red Wolf Moon. It's raining. The baby doesn't laugh or cry. Not ever. Lady Rhea says not to worry, but a baby that doesn't cry… isn't natural. Had a doctor examine the child in secret. He said the pulse is normal, but there's no heartbeat. No heartbeat! _

Claude, without thinking, places his hand on Teach’s chest. He doesn’t flinch. There’s no beat against his hand, but when he moves his fingers to Teach’s neck… A racing pulse. 

_ Day 2 of the Ethereal Moon. Sunny. I feel I must take the child and leave. But the church is always watching us… I don't know what Lady Rhea has planned. I used to think the world of Lady Rhea. Now I'm terrified of her. _

_ Day 8 of the Ethereal Moon. More rain. I used the fire that broke out last night to fake the child's death. Lady Rhea is in a state over the news. But I can't change what I've done. I've got to take the child and leave…  _

“The fire. When was the fire?” Teach asks.

Claude wracks his brain, “I read about it in the library, actually… 1159. Twenty-one years ago.”

“So that’s how old I am. Six weeks ago, I turned twenty-one.”

An answer. An answer to a question he’s had, but never knew or can’t remember.

Teach is only three years older than him. He’s two years  _ younger _ than Mercedes. That’s…  _ wild. _

“Heya, Teach,” Claude begins, “I know it’s a big deal to share this with me.”

“It’s not—”

“Yeah, it is… Do you believe in gods? I don't necessarily mean the goddess of the Seiros religion. Just... gods in general. Do you believe that incredible beings who control the fates of all really exist?”

“I do not.”

“Yeah, I didn't think so. I never used to believe in that sort of thing either. I've always hated the idea of praying to a god. After all, you can only really rely on yourself. I still believe that. You can't win a war by leaving your fate in the hands of a god. Only tangible facts can really decide a war. Which side has the most troops, the best tactics, the better organization and planning. Of course, miracles can happen. And by that, I mean things that are completely outside of your control. Things that only seem to add up if you believe in the concept of fate… Things like… well, meeting you, for example.”

Teach tilts his head to the side curiously. “What do you mean?”

“You just seem sort of… impossible. I think everyone would agree with that. You can wield the Sword of the Creator, you're a tactical genius, and you have this strange ability to earn the trust of anyone you cross paths with. Before I met you, I never imagined that it was possible for someone like you to exist.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Teach admits.

“You don’t have to say anything. Now that I know you, your presence in my life has quickly become invaluable. In fact, it's hard to imagine making my dreams come true without your help. Because of that, I can't believe for a second that our meeting was just a coincidence. That means it must have been fate. Maybe it was a miracle. Or maybe some god empathized with me and my dreams.”

“Some god?”

Right. He didn’t grow up with religion in his life. What a sheltered life he led. “Again, I don't mean the goddess of Fódlan. Though… I suppose it may be hard for you to grasp what I'm talking about. People all over the world have different ideas about who or what the gods are, right? Even in distant lands across the ocean or over the mountains…”

“Like Almyra, where Cyril is from.”

“Like Almyra,” Claude confirms. “Places like that have gods who see the world as a whole, who don't care about Fódlan's borders… Who don't meddle in our affairs. Who don't grant life or take it away. And maybe, sometimes, they'll make a miracle happen. A god like that… That's the sort of god I think I could believe in.”

“I think I understand.”

“Careful, Teach! You'll anger the followers of Seiros if you say things like that,” he teases, nudging his professor in the side. “I'm just speaking my mind, that's all. I think people should be free to believe in whatever gods they want. If a person believes in a god and that god becomes a support system to them, that's a good thing. That's what a god should be. Anyway… Maybe I've overstepped it. This is a rough time for you, I know, but…”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I knew you’d understand. So I’m going to trust you.”

“With what?”

“Who I really am. I haven’t always been Claude von Riegan, heir to the Leicester Alliance. I was born Crown Prince Khalid of Almyra.”

“ _ Khalid _ ,” Teach says, trying it on for size. It’s the first time he’s heard someone use his real name in years. It leaves his throat dry and tiny pinpricks in the back of his eyes. “You don’t want anyone to know.”

“I can’t let anyone know.”

“But you told me.”

“Well, yeah. You’re different, Teach. You don’t hold those prejudices. You’re the only person I’ve ever been able to call a friend.”

“I believe you’re the same to me,” Teach confesses. “You can call me by my name when we’re not around your classmates, if you’d like.”

“Okay,  _ Byleth _ ,” he says, trying it on for size as well. It’s going to be a bit awkward, remembering to call him that instead of Teach behind closed doors, but it’s nice.

“Would you like me to call you by your birth name?”

“No, thanks. I’m not going to risk anyone else hearing, if that’s okay with you.”

“I understand.”

“Besides, I’ve grown to like the name Claude. Particularly when Hapi calls me Claudester.”

“She has a nickname for everyone.” 

His eyes are calm, no hint of red or pink in them. He hasn’t cried for a while. Probably not since he fell apart in Claude’s arms.

“I see the storm in your eyes has passed… You're looking much better.”

He looks away. Shit, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

“Y’know, even from these few entries, I can tell Jeralt really cherished you. That much is clear.”

“I miss him.”

“I haven't lost a parent yet, so I can't even begin to understand how you must be feeling… But even while you're standing still, the world keeps on moving. I always find that oddly comforting.”

“Thank you, Claude.”

“No problem, Tea— I mean, Byleth. Not a problem.”

—

They don’t realize how long they’ve been talking until they see daylight seeping in under the door.

Claude’s been doing most of the talking, actually. Byleth seems very interested in Almyra. Apparently he tried talking to Cyril about it, but he wasn’t very forthcoming.

He understands that. Almyra and its aggressive customs orphaned Cyril at a young age. Claude’s not a fan of those customs either.

Byleth is most interested in the customs involving the care of wyverns. Claude comes close to crying when he talks about his tenth birthday, when he came back to find Aisha’s wings shredded. He does cry a little when he talks about her murder. Byleth holds his hand. It’s the first time anyone’s held his hand to comfort him. It’s the first time he’s cried since he was a sickly child. Certainly the first time he’s cried in front of someone else.

“I should probably go get ready for class, huh?” he realizes at the glimpse of sunlight.

“I should finish my lesson plan,” Byleth says. 

—

**_Day 28 of the Lone Moon, Year 1177_ **

**_The night is scorching._ **

“Khalid!”

He opens his eyes to see his father, staring at the scene before him with rage in his eyes, flanked by a pair of his half-brothers.

His first son, pinned against a wall in the wyvern stables, getting fucked by the trusted royal stablehand.

“I told you,  _ pedar _ . He’s just a freak.”

“Yousef, shut your mouth. Khalid, Yasir, put your clothes back on. Sina, fetch the guards.”

“The guards? The princes told me I would be made rich beyond my dreams if I fucked this half-breed.”

No. No, no, no, no. None of this was real? None of this was real… Of course not. Why was he so stupid to think it ever could be?

“The princes lied to you.” He’s never heard his father sound so furious. “Nobody sodomizes my son and lives to speak of it.”

He receives a mouthful of spit to the face for his heritage, for being the victim of this cruel joke. He’s not the one who promised Yasir coin to spend weeks seducing him, but he’s the one who receives the degradation of being spit on.

He has never,  _ ever  _ felt so small and humiliated as he does in this moment, saliva in his eyelashes, dressing under the eyes of his disappointed father and smug half-brother. This is far from the first time someone has spit on him because of his lineage, but it’s not the only thing he has to be ashamed of right now.

As the guards slap shackles onto Yasir’s wrists, he is forced to look his father in the eyes. As the stablehand is led out of the room, he feels as if he’s shrunken to a speck of dust.

“I have never been so disappointed with you, Khalid.”

“Are you disappointed because I’m having premarital sex or are you disappointed I was having sex with a man? Because I’ve fucked both men and women.”

“Don’t be so vulgar.” 

“Yousef and Sina know I’ve been with a woman before. They saw me leaving a brothel. I’m guessing their grand scheme was to see if my attractions were as split as my heritage. It seems you have your answer, brothers. I’ll fuck anything with a pulse.”

“Leaving a brothel? Be better, Khalid,” Sina scolds. 

“You know,  _ pedar _ , I wouldn’t have to pay for sex if it weren’t for you and  _ mâmân _ .”

His father slaps him across the face. “Don’t you dare, Khalid.”

“Don’t I dare  _ what? _ I’m an unholy, unlovable abomination. It’s  _ your  _ fault, the both of you. You chose to have a child without considering what their life would be like. You didn’t consider that I’d be called a half-breed by my own siblings—”

“Half-siblings,” Yousef corrects. 

It just proves his point. “—and that I’d have countless other slurs thrown at me on a daily basis. Being a prince didn’t protect me. It made it so much worse.”

“Are you blaming your parents for you sleeping with a man?” Sina asks. 

“No! I’m blaming them for the fact that I’ve never had a friend! I’ve never had a lover I haven’t had to pay for. I’ve never… I’ve never felt loved. I thought this was different, I thought that I finally found someone who loves me, but no. I’ve never been loved and I doubt I ever will.”

“We love you, boy,” his father insists.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Pretty sure dragging your child behind a horse  _ isn’t  _ a way to show affection.” He bites his lip and tips his head back, colliding with the wall. “You have no idea how miserable I am every single day.”

“I can’t even look at you,  _ pesar _ .”

“They said you made a choice. Make me your heir or let me die. I wish you’d let me die.”

He receives a slap to his other cheek, the back of his hand this time. An emerald-cut stone on the king’s ring breaks the skin.

“There is only one pearl that can go on your strand here. It’s unnatural otherwise.”

If it were a real strand of pearls, he would have torn it apart, snapping the strand.

“I’m not choosing.”

“Then I’m choosing for you. You are to leave for Fódlan until you have this out of your system.”

Out of his system. It’ll never be out of his system. It’s who he is.  _ Maybe _ the king means his combativeness, but, no, he’s certain it’s the fact that he’s attracted to men. He  _ can’t  _ get that out of his system because he doesn’t have a choice in the matter.

He’s known since he was a kid. He had a crush on the seamstress’s daughter and Nader’s son. He prayed and prayed, begging the stars to make just  _ one  _ part of him fit on a strand, but they refused. 

Those crushes faded, as all childhood crushes do, but their existence proved he’d never be normal in any regard. And their existence means he doesn’t have a home anymore.

—

**_Day 2 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The morning is too bright._ **

Claude is sluggish as he makes his way to grab breakfast, far later than he’d like. He knows his professor won’t fault him if he sleeps in class considering that’s who he was with when he didn’t get any sleep, but he feels bad about it regardless.

Maybe not as bad as when Ashe and Dedue sit down opposite him in the dining hall.

“Hey, guys,” he says groggily, a yawn escaping despite his best efforts.

“Claude, um, we’re not accusing you of anything—” Ashe begins.

“Are you having an affair with your professor?” Dedue says, not beating around the bush in the slightest.

After a moment of choking on orange juice, Claude realizes what must’ve happened. They occupy the two rooms next to Teach. They must’ve seen him when he arrived or when he departed.

“I heard you knocking on his door last night,” Ashe says.

“And I saw you leaving this morning,” Dedue adds. 

Claude has to laugh. It’s actually kind of funny.

“I appreciate you not going straight to Rhea and Seteth with this,” he begins, “but it’s nowhere near as interesting as a torrid love affair. We’re looking for answers about his early life and we were poring over his dad’s diary to find some. We’re not… no. He has scruples and he works for the church, so I’m pretty sure an affair with one of his male charges is the exact opposite of something he’d do. And  _ I’m _ not… like that.”

Lie. Lie, lie, lie. Yes, he has been with more than a few men, but none of them were his friend and none of them were his teacher. His feelings for Byleth are unique and absolutely not something he’d ever risk for a fling. He doesn’t  _ want  _ a fling. He wants a friend. A best friend. It’s not as if Byleth would even be into that either. He’s normal, unlike Claude.

—

“Ashe and Dedue think we’re seeing one another.”

Byleth lifts an eyebrow curiously. “We are, aren’t we?”

Oh  _ no. _ He’s never had a friend, but obviously said friend is reading into things differently and  _ why does he feel dizzy— _

“I’m seeing you right now, aren’t I?”

Oh. Ha. The metaphor didn’t land. It’s like a huge weight has been lifted off of his chest, knowing that they’re in agreement with how they stand. Friends.

“Romantically. They thought we were romantically entangled.”

“Oh. That’s interesting. That’s not a normal relationship, is it?”

“Yeah, two guys typically aren’t—”

“A teacher and student—”

Oh.  _ Oh. _ “Right. A professor and student isn’t normal. Right. Ethically dicey too. Even if they were a man and woman, still wrong. I guess it being two men is even  _ more  _ wrong.”

“I didn’t realize that would be the problem.”

Claude clears his throat. “It’s the stance of the Church of Seiros, the governments of Faerghus and the Alliance and the Adrestian Empire and Almyra and Sreng and Morfis and…” His chest hurts. This hurts.

“Why?”

“It’s just the way it is.”

“You don’t agree.”

“I’m one of those freaks, I guess. It’s, um, why I was sent to Fódlan. My father, through machinations of my half-siblings, discovered that my heritage isn’t the only thing sliced in half. I’m attracted to both women  _ and  _ men.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t care.”

“I do. I care because I care for you.” He frowns. “I don’t understand why your own family would ostracize you because of who you are.”

“You still like me?”

“You’re my friend. You care for me despite my faults. It’s the least I can do to accept you for who you are.”

“Despite this glaring fault?”

“It’s  _ not _ a fault. It’s who you are. You cannot control who you love.”

  
Claude never imagined someone could know all of him and accept him despite it.

“My first kiss was with a boy.”  _ That  _ hits Claude like a brick in the face. 

“Your first kiss? You remember it?”

“No. I read it in my father’s journal. Boys and girls would take turns kissing me to see if I’d react as a game of some sorts. My father began an altercation with the father of a pair of boys who did it.”

Claude’s face falls. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s… I’m glad to know. I’d rather know than not know.”

“Have you gleaned anything else from the diary?”

“I think I learned why I’m so concerned with returning lost items. My father noticed when I was about six, too little to help in battle, so I would help out in other ways and one of those ways was locating lost items. Everyone would go to the stony-faced Ashen Demon child whenever they needed to find something. Seems it’s persisted.”

“I remember. You returned my leather bow sheath and board game piece and alleged stomach poison.” Byleth smiles at him. “And I see you carrying things around you’ve found. You always find the right owner. It’s really nice of you.” Claude smiles back. “Everything about you is nice.”

“I think the same about you.”

“Oh really? Name one nice thing.”

“I think it’s nice that you read so much. You’re the brightest student I have. I think Annette is the only one in the Officers Academy who reads more than you.”

“She’s a tentpole in the library. Ashe and Linhardt are in there pretty often as well. Well, Linhardt is there when he’s not napping.”

“When did you start reading so much?” 

“I didn’t have any friends. The closest thing I had to a friend was my sister, who’s only two weeks younger than me. She would defend me from the physical abuse my oldest brothers would inflict. She would bring me books and she taught me how to play board games. Once her mother noticed how close we were, she ripped her away. I haven’t seen her in years… So I’ve had books and played board games alone. Those were my only friends until I met you.”

“Aren’t your classmates your friends?”

“Not the way you are. You know me. That I’m Almyran, that I’ve slept with men, that I’m a broken shell of a person, but you’re still my friend.”

“Slept with? You fell asleep for a while when we were reading the journal—”

“No, no. It’s like ‘seeing each other’, not literally. ‘Slept with’ means sex. I never  _ literally _ slept with anyone. Sneaking out before someone found out where my mother came from became an art.”

Byleth frowns, then steps forward and embraces him. He’s become a hugger in the short hours since he let Claude hold him yesterday.

They’re there for one another now. They’re bound in a tie that they cannot break. Not as if they’d want to.

—

**_Day 4 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_Fog hangs in the air._ **

Claude follows Byleth most of the day. In his grief, he’s pretty sure Teach doesn’t notice him.

He knows Teach doesn’t believe in gods following their talk, but he gets down on his knees by the altar, right next to Cyril.

“Oh Goddess, hear my prayer. Please receive this beloved person. When the cold rain washes the body, when the bird and wolf announce the dawn… Receive them into your blue blood. Receive them into a twinkling star.” Cyril looks over at Teach. “That's a mourning scripture from the Church of Seiros. Lady Rhea taught it to me. I pray that Jeralt is happy in the next world.”

The way Byleth’s chest heaves as he tries not to cry simply breaks Claude’s heart. Claude follows him as he heads out toward the Goddess Tower.

He’s leaning over the side of the bridge, looking at nothing, very clearly trying not to cry.

“Heya, Teach,” Claude says, snapping him out of whatever thoughts were clouding his mind. “Ah, I forgot. We’re on a first-name basis now.”

“Hello, Claude. Sorry I’m… Not at my best.”

He’s apologizing. No, that’s not okay. “That’s okay. I understand. Don’t apologize for having feelings, alright?”

“How can I be effective in my job if I’m not at my best?”

“We understand,” he says, putting a hand on his professor’s back. “We care a lot about you. We understand.”

Byleth rests his head on Claude’s shoulder as sobs shake his body.

“It’s okay. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

—

**_Day 5 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The sun is out._ **

_ Day 14 of the Ethereal Moon. It’s raining. He hasn’t spoken a word in four days. He’s never been much of a conversationalist, but this level of silence is troubling.  _

_ Day 16 of the Ethereal Moon. It’s hailing. I took a man’s life in anger tonight. Finding out what he did to my son was more than I could bear. He touched my little boy, just because he could, just to see how he’d react. He tried to do it again. I have never felt such rage. _

Claude feels bile rise in his throat. If his math is correct based on the cycle of months in the diary, Teach was only eight when this happened. There’s no way he remembers it, but that kind of thing doesn’t happen without leaving scars. It must be why he flinches when someone touches him unexpectedly.

He slips a bookmark in with the page, deciding his friend deserves to know what has happened to him. He flips through toward the end. He wants to know what Jeralt thought of returning to Garreg Mach.

_ Day 4 of the Wyvern Moon. All is cloudy. I saw him smile for the first time. Ever since he met these brats, he’s shown emotion for the first time in his life. The leader of his house, the boy named Claude, made him smile after a dumb joke. I think he may be making a friend.  _

He smiles. The first time Jeralt saw his son smile is when Claude made a stupid joke. He feels honored.

_ Day 1 of the Ethereal Moon. Sky is clear. I have to leave. Goddess knows I’m glad to miss the ball, but I’d love to see him smile again. He does it all the time now and it’s due to his class. The girl Hilda makes him smile and roll his eyes as she manipulates others into doing her work. He smiles to let the girl Marianne know it’s okay to do so. He smiles when Ignatz talks about art or Raphael talks about food. He smiles when Leonie tries to one-up him as my first apprentice. He smiles when Lysithea gets indignant about her age. He smiles when the Gloucester boy says something incredibly pretentious, which happens at least once a day. He smiles at the house leader Claude all the time, whether he’s hatching a scheme or joking with everyone. I think he might have made his first friend in that kid. I don’t have to worry about leaving him behind because I know he has other people in his life now who will take care of him and keep him from feeling lonely. I don’t think he could be lonely anymore if he tried. He’ll have smiles aplenty with these brats around. _

And that makes Claude smile and clutch the diary to his chest. He was Byleth’s first friend and Byleth was his. He feels warm and fuzzy inside to know Jeralt entrusted his son to the new people in his life and to Claude specifically. He vows to Jeralt’s memory that he will always take care of Byleth.


	8. Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War comes to Garreg Mach.

**_Day 4 of the Pegasus Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The sky is overcast._ **

“Hey, Teach. Is it okay for you to be out on your own right now? Just… please be careful not to topple over again. You scared us nearly to death,” Claude says, placing a hand upon Byleth’s shoulder in an attempt to make sure he stays upright.

“I appreciate the concern.” Someone else might say he sounds a little sarcastic, but he sounds genuinely touched to Claude. He’d say he knows Teach a lot better than someone outside the outsiders.

“I always knew there was something special about you, but you've only gotten more and more extraordinary the longer I've known you.”

“Oh, Claude. You put too much value in me.”

“Hey, you’re the one who carved your way out of a void, my friend. I’m glad you did because I can’t imagine never seeing you again.”

It’s frustrating that Byleth can’t acknowledge his own significance. He’s brilliant. He’s fantastic. He’s Claude’s best friend, but he’s so much more. 

He can wield the Sword of the Creator. He can make Claude’s dreams reality with the swing of the blade. He selfishly wants that, but he wants Teach’s ambitions to match with his own so they can bring a new dawn  _ together _ . Somehow he knows that Byleth would do anything for him, but he doesn’t want a one-sided relationship; he wants to be equals. He doesn’t want to be apart from him.

He’s never felt this way about a person. Intense, aching, gnawing  _ need  _ to be with him, to protect him, to know every single thing about him. It’s scary and it’s exhilarating. 

Claude is graduating this month, but Teach will remain here while Claude returns to Derdriu. Teach will get a new crop of students and forget about him.

“You’ll have to write to me once you’ve graduated,” Byleth says as if reading his mind, playfully tugging on his braid. “No Golden Deer will compare to my first.”

Claude swallows hard. He means his first class, right? Not Claude. Surely not. He’s not  _ that  _ fond of him, right?  _ Right? _

“Lorenz will be glad to hear that. He’d hate to think anyone could surpass him.”

“I wasn’t talking about Lorenz.”

Oh. “I’m flattered.”

“I was obviously talking about Hilda.” Byleth tries to maintain a serious face, but breaks out into a smile. “Okay, fine. Marianne.”

Claude gently punches him in the shoulder. “Stop teasing me, Teach.”

“You’re my house leader. Of course I have a special place in my heart for you, even if it doesn’t beat.”

Claude’s getting choked up. He’s not going to cry. He has plenty of experience with keeping the tears at bay. Still, his best friend is telling him how much he means to him and it makes Claude’s heart beat fast and gets him feeling a little dizzy.

“I’ve never told anyone any of the things I’ve told you,” Claude says. “Don’t forget about me once you have that revelation from the goddess.”

“I’d never forget you, Claude.”

—

**_Day 29 of the Pegasus Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The fresh air is nice._ **

Byleth walks into the classroom with a grim look on his face. It’s different from the stony face he used to have. It’s fear interspersed with anger. Edelgard really fucked up if she made  _ him  _ angry.

“I heard what happened, Teach. The princess — well, the emperor now — she really did it, didn't she? The lords and dukes of both the Kingdom and the Alliance have been called out, and now have to choose between the Church and the Empire. The seed of conflict was always there, and now we find ourselves in the middle of a war that will tear Fódlan in two.”

Byleth nods and Claude wishes it would seem normal for him to hug his professor, but in front of his fellow students? No dice.

Lysithea says distraughtly, “The Empire is rash, but I never thought it would come to this.”

Leonie sounds shaken. “How could something like this happen? I hope everyone back home is safe.”

“I'm sure it's mass confusion at home right now. My brother must be worried sick about me,” Hilda remarks.

“Let's calm down,” Byleth says, taking a deep breath and nonverbally suggesting they do the same.

“You're absolutely right, Teach. I'm sure a lot of us are worried about our homes, but all we can do now is prepare for battle and tread carefully.”

Byleth gives him a grateful smile and Claude smiles back the slightest bit, still worried, but comforted by the strength of his Teach.

—

**_Day 3 of the Lone Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_The atmosphere is tense._ **

Teach is running around putting out fires and trying to soothe his students. The Black Eagles in particular are having a rough go of it with this distressing news.

Ferdinand is spiraling about the six great noble families of the Adrestian Empire. His family has lost all their prestige, power, land… He’s got nothing left aside from Garreg Mach. Teach sat with him while he had a panic attack and sent him to Manuela with a prescription for an anti-anxiety draught. 

Linhardt theorizes that they’ve been planning this for a long time and that his and Caspar’s fathers specifically are likely involved. Caspar says he’d rather face a monster than his father. Linhardt was sent to take a nap before he gave Caspar a panic attack of his own. Bernadetta won’t leave her room unsurprisingly, though Byleth leaned against her door and gave her a pep talk. Petra received a letter from Edelgard, but evidently decided that Brigid is no friend of the Empire. 

The Black Eagles have absorbed themselves into the Golden Deer just by the fact that Teach is there to hold hands and comfort them during this severe betrayal by someone they considered a friend. Hanneman is studying the Crest Stone they recovered from a divine beast at the chapel and Manuela is treating nervous breakdowns, so it’s fallen to Byleth to take care of their houses.

Dimitri is basically feral. As soon as he heard of Edelgard’s betrayal, he chopped the heads off of all the training dummies in the monastery. Even Dedue can’t get through to him. Teach comforts Dedue for his perceived failure in calming him down, but Dedue agrees that Edelgard’s head should be cleaved from her shoulders. Felix is training next to his friend the boar, though he’s not an animalistic beast. He’s just the ever unruffled Felix.

Ashe and Annette are fearful, but have decided in Dimitri’s absence of mind that they’re going to follow Teach in the battle to come. Sylvain and Mercedes are confused above all else and Ingrid is in awe of how composed Edelgard was able to stay even as she knew she was the villain behind the monastery’s troubles all year long.

The Golden Deer are less of a disaster, likely because they’ve had Teach for the past year. Lorenz wants to be careful as his family’s land borders the Empire and Lysithea also counsels caution. Raphael is eating in anticipation of needing energy to fight. Byleth helps Ignatz and Marianne with bravery in the face of something they never thought would come to pass. Hilda says she believes in Claude, which gets him to blush when Byleth tells him. Leonie wants to avenge Jeralt, obviously.

The Ashen Wolves are worried about the effects war will have on the people of Abyss. Claude went down with Byleth to talk to them and even the unflappable Yuri seemed rattled. Constance’s bright and lovely persona underground was bordering on her personality in the sun.

Once every student has been heard and every reparable hurt is soothed, Byleth retires to his room for a short nap. Sleep doesn’t come to him and Claude knows it as he sits on the end of his bed and reads a book on Adrestian warfare, ready to bite off the head of anyone who tries to bother his sleepy professor.

“Can’t sleep,” he comments after twenty minutes of trying. “I wish I were Linhardt.”

Claude’s lips quirk up in an amused smile. “I don’t. We don’t need a narcoleptic leading us into battle.”

Byleth sits up beside him and tucks himself under Claude’s arm. This sort of close contact is something he never would have considered with another person one year ago, but it feels comfortable and natural to have his professor cuddled up to him, looking at his face as if he’s searching for an answer to this unthinkable turn of events.

“It's you and me, Teach. We've got this,” Claude says, shutting his book and letting Byleth fall asleep against him.

—

**_Day 31 of the Lone Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_Battle has arrived._ **

“I wanted to talk to Rhea first, but as expected, that won't be possible. What did she hope to accomplish at the Holy Tomb? What happened to you as a baby? There are still so many things I need to know. The same goes for the real origin of the Crest Stones and the Heroes' Relics. As for Seiros and Nemesis… just how much of their mythology is true?” Claude asks, looking at his Teach as if he has the answers. He knows he doesn’t. They’re in the dark together.

“We know so little.”

“It's true. But lucky for me, I refuse to die with so much still unknown. Hey, Teach — Byleth — all joking aside. Can we possibly survive this battle?” he asks, the slightest tinge of fear creeping into his voice.

“We'll find a way,” Byleth says, reaching out to take Claude’s hand. Claude glances down at where their hands meet and his stomach does a somersault.

“That's all we can do, right? If we gave up, the god of fate wouldn't be happy, would they?”

“No, I don’t think they would,” he agrees. 

Uh-oh. He looks into his professor’s eyes and words just start coming up to the surface, flowing out of his mouth with no filter to them at all.

“I'm a lot of things, but I'm not the kind of man to just roll over and die in a place like this. I have my own ambitions to see to. There are things — dreams — that I must see come to fruition. And I've been thinking. I want you to see those dreams realized as well.”

He wants to hold hands with the greatest man in Fódlan as king of Almyra, as the leader of a nation no longer at odds with the home of the person he holds the most affection for in the entire world. 

“On top of all that, there are still so many secrets out there, just waiting to be uncovered. We can't let that stand, can we? So, Teach… No, scratch that. You're so much more. You're my ally and my friend. Teach… Friend… None of those words quite capture what you've come to mean to me, Byleth. We may not be connected by blood, but I believe our bond goes deeper than that. Now that we know each other, our hearts are connected. Even if our paths diverge and we're forced to say goodbye, I know that we'll meet again. And so, for lack of a better word, I gratefully call you my friend, and I hold fast to the belief that this isn't it for us. No matter who or what you really are, I'll always be on your side. You can't count on much in this world, but you can count on that.”

Byleth embraces him tight, almost so tightly that Claude wonders if he’s trying to make them physically meld together. They are so bound in a permanent tie that Claude swears he’ll never know another feeling like this, the man he cares so deeply for holding him and Claude holding him back.

“Thank you for being my friend,” Byleth whispers into his ear before leaving a kiss on his cheek.

Claude could cry. He won’t. He’s strong. But those six words and that kiss mean the absolute world to him.

—

He goes missing, but Claude knows he’s somewhere out there.

“How are you so sure?” Marianne asks with a frown.

“I feel it in my bones. We’re going to see him again. I swear it.”

“He’s likely dead,” Lorenz remarks.

“Then where is his body?” Leonie asks after smacking Lorenz in the shoulder  _ hard.  _ “I believe you, Claude. You know him better than anyone.”

Claude feels a tinge of pink hit his cheeks. He supposes he  _ does  _ know him better. Between the heart-to-hearts and Jeralt’s diary and the fact that Teach fell asleep in his lap… Yeah, he knows him better than anyone.

“I hope we see him again,” Hapi says in agreement. “Chatterbox cut himself out of a void with the Sword of the Creator. He’s alive. Nothing can be worse than being trapped in a void.”

She’s right. He’s far too powerful to die.

He can’t be dead because that would mean Claude is alone again. He _can’t_ be alone again.

—

**_Day 6 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1181_ **

**_The continent is at war._ **

“The stress has made him even more ill,” the healer tells Claude. “He’s going to be gone before the sunrise.”

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He spent a year at the academy, but he knows nothing of how to lead people in a war.

He chews on the side of his thumb nail as he paces back and forth. Goddess, this would be so much easier if he had Teach with him. He’s about to become the new Duke Riegan and he has to reconcile that with the fact that he has to take the throne of Almyra eventually. 

He wants to cry, but he knows he can’t. He hasn’t cried in years, aside from the tears hidden away in Byleth’s room, but this anguish and fear partnered with the fact that his best friend is missing in action is almost too much to bear.

The next best thing to having Teach hug him is writing to his mom. She’ll give him good counsel, won’t she? She has to. She’s the only other person that knows him, though she never understood him the way Byleth did. 

Nobody’s ever gotten him like that. Byleth knew him scars and all, Claude let him  _ see  _ those scars, and he didn’t run. He gave Claude self-esteem and believed in him when Claude didn’t necessarily believe in himself. He would believe in him right now.

Going from a year of seeing him every day to a week of nothing has Claude feeling lost. He’s going to ascend to lead the Alliance and he’s utterly lost. Where does he even  _ start? _ He assumed he’d have some time to learn from the old man before he croaked. The Officers Academy didn’t prepare him to do it all alone.

That’s not to say his education was lacking. Not at all. That’s just not what he was being taught. It’s hard to learn hands-on governance when you’re learning weapons and magic. Judith made sure he made it to roundtable discussions and he’s immensely grateful to her for making him do that, as annoying as it was to be pulled away from the alluring and mysterious stranger teaching him weapons and magic.

When the healer comes back out of his grandfather’s room several hours of pacing later, Claude gets dizzy. “He is gone.”

This is it. The big show. Leader of an alliance at war. He’s only eighteen and woefully underqualified. 

He feels a ghost of Byleth’s hand on his shoulder, just the same encouraging touch as when he was drilling him on the axe and bow. He supposes he has  _ some  _ idea of what he’s doing. Byleth taught him all about authority — though it was mostly how to lead troops rather than lead an entire nation.

He can do this. Byleth isn’t here, but he’s in Claude’s heart, telling him not to be afraid.

He’s going to write his mom anyway. She needs to know that her father has passed.

—

_ Day 6 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1181 _

_ Dear Mâmân, _

_ I write to you with a heavy heart. I’m sure you’ve already heard that the Adrestian Empire has declared war, but this is so much more personally upsetting. Your father has passed away. The healer says it was his illness and the stress of war breaking out. He missed you, you know? I think part of his hatred of me was due in part to the fact that I’m a reminder that you abandoned him. _

_ To be perfectly candid, I’m lost. I never thought I’d find a place that accepted me, but Garreg Mach was that for me. I even found someone who cared about me despite knowing my history. He knew my ancestry and he knew my sexuality and he didn’t care. Well, he said he  _ _ did _ _ care because he cared about me, but it didn’t change his opinion of me. I never thought I’d find someone like that. _

_ He was my best friend, but he went missing after the battle at Garreg Mach. I know he’s alive. I can feel it in my heart. He wouldn’t leave me without saying goodbye. _

_ You wouldn’t believe him. He’s absolutely impossible. He can wield the Sword of the Creator. It can’t literally cleave a mountain in two, but it’s still a shock to witness what he can do with it.  _

_ His name is Byleth. He was my professor, but became so much more. He was my first human friend. He was the first person to truly see me. I know he’ll be back eventually, but there’s going to be a Teach-shaped hole in my heart until he does. _

_ It’s going to be hard, but I think I’ll make it. My condolences about your father. I know how much you loved him. _

_ All my love, _

_ Duke Riegan _


	9. Blue Sea Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude finally feels love.

**_Day 25 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1185_ **

**_Dawn is bright._ **

Claude turns as he hears movement coming up the stairs. Somehow he knows it’s not a threat, just a friend fulfilling their promise of returning for the Millennium Festival. He doubts the Ashen Wolves have left Abyss for long, so it’s likely one of them.

Except it’s not. A shock of pale green hair walks up the steps of the Goddess Tower.

“You overslept, Teach. Pretty rude to keep a fella waiting like that, wouldn't you say?”

His former professor looks stunned as he makes his approach. Almost as if he didn’t think Claude would be there.

“What's with that surprised look, my friend?”

This is what he hoped would happen. He wanted so desperately for his friend to reappear here. And he has.

“You didn't really think I'd given up on you coming back, did you?”

—

He can’t believe it. Byleth had just been… sleeping?

And yet, like everything the man says, he knows it’s true.

Claude has to touch him periodically, just to ensure he’s really there. Just innocuous brushes of his hand on his shoulder or wrist. For the most part. Save for one insanely awkward moment when he touches his face. It’s not cold and hard, not like his smooth porcelain skin suggests. He’s warm and soft. 

“I’m really here,” Byleth assures him, voice gentle and barely above a whisper.

“That’s exactly what a figment of my imagination would say,” he counters, awkwardly withdrawing his hand.

“Do you believe our friends will return as you have?”

“I do.”

—

**_Day 30 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1185_ **

**_A chill hangs in the air._ **

Byleth wasn’t there for the presentation of the new banner and Claude is at a loss of where to look for him. Leaving the reception hall, his feet drag him across the bridge to the cathedral, then across the bridge to the Goddess Tower. Sure enough, that’s where he finds him.

“Hey, friend. So this is where you've been. Without you, the knights never would have joined our cause. I could never pay you back for that.”

Byleth just shrugs. “Let's do our best.”

“Just leave it to me, Teach. When this fight is over, I plan to see all of my dreams come to fruition, and yours as well.”

“What are you dreams, Claude?”

“Well, for example... to bust open Fódlan's Throat. There's a massive fortress there, which is responsible for protecting the eastern border of the Alliance from Almyra. I like to think of it as a lid on a bottle. The people of Fódlan only know a small part of the world. Their prejudices are born because they don't know what lies beyond their borders. And the opposite is true too. Those outside of Fódlan don't know about this place. Ignorance breeds discrimination and I know that firsthand. Whether you look inside the bottle or outside of it… If you really look, all you find are people who you can get along with, if you only try. That's why I wanna bust open that lid, which is keeping us locked inside. Or destroy the bottle entirely.”

“Are you going to tell our allies about this without betraying your ancestry?”

“I'll find the right time to bring it up,” Claude says, putting a hand between his friend’s shoulder blades and looking out over the mountains with him. “Even if I talked about it now, it doesn't seem realistic, does it? First we need to defeat the Empire and restore peace to… Huh?” He withdraws his hand from Byleth as if he burns. That’s a little embarrassing.

“Professor! Claude! We're under attack!”

Claude clears his throat awkwardly. “I guess we'll have to cut our conversation short. What's going on, Leonie?”

“It's a small group, but some Imperial troops are headed this way. It looks like they were stationed nearby,” she informs them.

“I got to hand it to Edelgard. Nothing gets past that woman,” Claude says ruefully.

“We should proceed cautiously,” Byleth counsels.

“As long as we don't let our guard down, there's no way they can defeat us,” Claude declares. “This will be our first battle alongside the Knights of Seiros. Let's kick off our new partnership with a magnificent victory!”

Partnership. Guess they’re officially partners in this.

—

**_Day 8 of the Pegasus Moon, Year 1185_ **

**_The sun is out._ **

“Whoa, are you alright?” Claude asks, helping Hilda to her feet again.

“Maybe I was wrong. I should probably have you with me for a few more rides, Mr. Leader Man.”

He glances to his left, seeing a smirk on Byleth’s face. 

“Are you sure it’s not worth it to just walk on the battlefield?” Claude asks, folding his arms across his chest. “How many times does Constance have to swoop you up before you plummet to your death?”

“It is all I am good for,” Constance says in her typical outdoors voice.

“Five years hasn’t changed what the sun does to you,” Teach surmises.

“I am so sorry to be a disappointment.”

“Hey, Constance. No. Never,” he says in his professor voice. “You’ve saved Hilda’s life how many times today?”

He’s the same kind and warm guide he’s always been. He was born to lead. There’s no one else Claude would rather have as the general of his army.

—

When Claude finds him that night, he’s on his back beside his parents’ grave, staring up at the heavens.

Without a word, he joins his old professor on the ground, gazing up at the stars with him.

“I used to think your eyes looked like the night sky.” The admission causes his professor to look over at him with a gentle smile. “Now they’re the blue-green of the sea. Derdriu is known as the Aquatic Capital and your eyes remind me of the clear ocean there.”

“You like my eyes?”

Claude has been so clunky and awkward lately. His face grows hot and he clears his throat. “Yes. Your eyes are objectively very beautiful. There’s a reason all the girls had a crush on you.”

He looks at Claude curiously, an eyebrow arched in disbelief. “All the girls had a crush on me?”

“For someone so sharp, you can be pretty oblivious, my friend. Probably all those years you can’t remember, suppressing all of your intuitions about people and their motives.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please, stop apologizing to me about things. You’ve never wronged me, alright?” 

“Alright. So you’re serious that all the girls had a crush on me?”

“Pretty sure Manuela  _ still _ wants to climb aboard the Teach Wagon.”

“Don’t tease me, Duke Riegan.”

“Oh, I believe, as sovereign duke of the Leicester Alliance and crown prince of Almyra, I have the right to tease you, Professor Eisner.”

“As the wielder of the Sword of the Creator, I alone have the ability to cleave the mountains of Fódlan’s Throat in twain, so be nice to me.”

“Would you do it if I asked?”

“Let Manuela climb aboard the Teach Wagon?” he retorts coyly.

“Ah, I see the teasing has been turned toward me now.”

Diplomatically avoiding answering the true question. At least until Byleth says, voice quiet and gentle, “I’d do anything if you asked me to.”

Claude gets an uncomfortable flutter in his stomach at that soft-spoken statement. Uncomfortable or just unfamiliar? He never had a best friend before Byleth, so he’s unsure of what to do with the emotion that accompanies knowing that another person feels so strongly about you.  _ What do normal people do in a friendship? _

Instead he just gets flustered and blushes and  _ wait, hold on, why is he staring at me? _

“Is my face really that interesting?”

“It is,” he confirms, a lazy smile on his lips.

“You’ve become quite expressive, haven’t you?” Claude realizes. “You weren’t like that when we first met.”

“I wasn’t like much of anything before we first met. It wasn’t until I became friends with you that I started to see something more than a blank stare greeting me in the mirror.”

Oh,  _ wow. _

“You have a way with words, Byleth,” Claude says, his voice wavering a bit.

“It was around the time I noticed your smile reaching your eyes.”

“Did we change each other for the better?”

“Oh, who’s to say it was for the better?” There’s that teasing warmth in his tone again. “But I do believe we changed one another forever.”

“Considering you’re one with the goddess and I’m a lowly mortal, your definition of forever is likely different than mine.”

His friend sharply inhales. “I don’t want to consider a world without you in it.”

They fall into a heavy silence, one that’s broken when Byleth points to the sky.

“That’s the Blue Sea Star. It’s the biggest, brightest star in the night sky.”

“Where’d you learn that?”

“It’s one of the few memories I have from my youth. Stargazing with my father was better at getting me to fall asleep than a story or warm milk was.”

Something about that makes Claude’s heart hurt. It’s probably why he’s out here, looking up at the sky beside his father’s grave. Claude interrupted that.

He decides to share something he’s never told anyone else as a way of apologizing. “Whenever I can’t sleep, I just gaze up at the stars to clear my head. I've been that way since I was a kid. Looking up at the big, starry sky makes my dreams feel small… which makes it feel like I can actually make them come true. I didn't believe in gods when I was a kid. Maybe that's because the night sky took their place for me.”

“I couldn’t sleep tonight. I thought being here with my father and looking upward would help, but… I think I was supposed to run into you. Call it the will of the goddess or the god of fate or the stars or just coincidence, but this is what I needed. Just you and me. Not the interim Archbishop or Duke Riegan, but Byleth and Claude. Claude or Khalid or Claudester, but  _ not _ Mr. Leader Man.”

Claude laughs, rolling over onto his side so he can rest his face against Byleth’s shoulder as he starts to cry for the first time in years.

“I’m sorry. Did I upset you?”

“No, not at all,” Claude insists. “This war is so taxing and hearing that there’s one relationship that isn’t contingent on anything but you and me just existing… It means a lot. It means  _ everything _ .” His voice is thick as he tries not to sob, saying, “I want you to know that you’re my best friend. You were my first friend and you will always be my best friend. I felt so lost with you gone.”

He’s never been so raw and emotional in front of another person, even when Byleth held his hand as he talked about Aisha and shed several tears, even when he had that anxiety attack in front of Judith. 

He allows himself to be held, the same way he held Byleth after Jeralt’s death. Claude has never been held as he cried. That sad fact makes him cry even harder. He never thought he could be so emotionally intimate with someone, but here he is weeping into the arms of the only person to ever care for him in spite of knowing all that he is.

A half-breed, a beast, a monster, an abomination, a demon, a filthy sinner, a freak.

That Byleth is able to put all of that aside speaks to who he is as a person. A better person than most people he knows, better than anyone he grew up around, better than his own family.

He holds him, he whispers reassurances, he keeps holding him even after the sobbing has abated for the most part.

“Would you like to come to my quarters? Now that I’m not your professor, I probably should explicitly say this is  _ not  _ a come on.”

Claude laughs, recalling the first time he invited him back to his room, when Claude told him that it could be interpreted that way.

“I don’t have my father’s diary to read together, but I have tea. All your favorites. Almyran Pine Needles, Chamomile, Leicester Cortania… Or we can try something new together. Whatever you’d like.”

“You sound like Lorenz trying to lure a noblewoman back to his room with the promise of tea,” Claude says goodnaturedly. “I’d love some, though.”

—

**_Day 9 of the Pegasus Moon, Year 1185_ **

**_The stars are twinkling._ **

In the safety of Byleth’s room, they share countless cups of tea as Claude fills him in on every minute detail of the five years because they really haven’t had a chance to catch up yet. He includes the dumbest, most mind-numbing things, like the fact that Hilda’s brother takes nine sugar cubes in his coffee.

“Let’s talk about a different kind of sugar. What has my dear friend Claude von Riegan done in terms of romance?” Byleth asks, knocking his knee against Claude’s, wordlessly egging him on.

“Oh, nothing serious. Still sleeping with strangers who don’t know my name. Of course, now it’s just so the sovereign duke doesn’t catch flack from his constituents for, y’know, sleeping with strangers. A welcome difference from the fact that people in Almyra weren’t allowed to know my name because it opened me up to being spit on or punched or both.”

“Any marriage prospects?”

“Ha,” he says, a laugh that is more of a statement than an actual laugh. “My friend, you’ve gotten funnier as the years go by.”

“I’m sure your grandfather impressed upon you the importance of passing on your Crest.”

He didn’t even have time to. He was gone a week after Teach was presumed dead. Holst and Judith did it instead. Getting The Talk isn’t any less awkward when you’ve been sexually active since your mid-teens. It might actually be worse. He doesn’t feel like telling Teach all of that.

“You gonna pass on  _ your  _ Crest, Teach?”

“I’m unsure of how I came to possess mine. Would procreation even pass mine on?”

“Only one way to find out,” Claude teases, winking for added effect. 

“Ask Rhea?”

“Ask Rhea, exactly,” Claude says with a laugh. “Thing is, we have to find her for that. And the Knights have had zero luck in the last five years. But, you know, I say that and then I look into your eyes and I know we’ll find her now that you’re back.”

Byleth takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. “We’ll get all of our questions answered. She can’t beat around the bush forever.”

There’s a lull in the conversation and Claude feels word vomit creeping up his throat.

“I believe I’ve told you where I come from, the people of Fódlan are looked down on as cowards. Technically, that cowardice runs in my veins. On my mother's side, anyway. That's why the people who were around me when I was growing up thought of me as an outsider. But I don't believe the people of Fódlan are cowards. That kind of perspective is just based on ignorance,” Claude says sadly, gazing down at where their hands are connected atop Byleth’s knee. “Apart from you, the person from Fódlan who I know best is my mother. She fell in love with a man from the wrong side of the border and had the guts to leave home to pursue that love. I always threw that in the faces of anyone who tried to make a fool of me. My mother is proof the people of Fódlan aren't all cowards.”

“I think the actions your classmates took to defend Garreg Mach is definitive proof that people of Fódlan aren’t cowards. The fact that they came back is a suggestion that they’re actually certifiably insane.”

Claude smiles, then grows somber again. “Just saying that doesn't achieve anything, though. I need to destroy the prejudices that have taken root in my homeland. I thought seeing Fódlan with my own eyes, I might be able to find a new perspective that could help me change things. And what did I find? That the people here view anyone who's an outsider as a beast of sorts.”

Byleth rests his other hand atop the two on his knee. Claude does the same. “A beast?”

“That’s what my grandfather called me the first time we met. I was shocked. Even though our cultures and beliefs are completely different, our two lands have that much in common. That's when I realized the only way to change things is to bring the whole world together and start anew. That's the dream I've been working towards since I first entered the Officers Academy five years ago. To unify the Alliance, and then all of Fódlan, and to bring a new set of values to this new land of mine… After that, I'd expand that vision to the rest of the world. Break down the walls and let a new perspective come rushing in. Start all over. Do you think that's just a crazy pipe dream? Or a brilliant ambition?”

“Can you make that pipe dream come true?” Byleth asks, looking at Claude, waiting for an answer.

“Not too long ago, I would have said that it was too much for me to accomplish on my own. But that's not how I feel anymore. And that's because I have you on my side now. Lately, I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I wouldn't have made it this far without you. You and me, Byleth. We can go anywhere. Do anything. I hope you'll always walk in step with me… At least until the day comes when we can look out at the peaceful world we've built. Together.”

“I’m looking forward to that day. Not because we won’t have to walk in sync anymore, but because I want you to see your dreams realized. I had no ambitions when we first met, but once we made that wish in the Goddess Tower, my ambition has been to see yours come to fruition.”

Claude’s heart starts pounding and he feels a little dizzy as butterflies erupt in his stomach. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, my friend,” Byleth assures him, resting his chin on Claude’s shoulder. “Just make it come true.”

—

Claude wakes up in a bed that isn’t his own. It’s his old friend’s, the old friend whose face is nestled against his neck.

Other than that nap he took when they first read Jeralt’s journal and the nights he spent tucked under Aisha’s wing, this is the first time he’s slept beside someone. That’s… sad. He knows from past exchanges that Byleth and Jeralt would almost always share a bed, particularly after that man touched him, but Claude’s parents didn’t even allow that when he’d had a nightmare.

It was always “ _ you must learn to soothe yourself, Khalid”.  _ Until last night, he believed it. He believed nobody could soothe his pain, but this sleeping fool held him as he wept and made him feel safe and sound. He made it okay to be vulnerable.

He would be content to stay here with him, holding one another forever and ever. He’s never dreamed of knowing love like this.

That’s what it is. That fondness, that deep caring for another person,  _ has  _ to be love. It may not be the romantic love that his mother abandoned Fódlan for, it may not be the familial love between Jeralt and Byleth, and it may not be like anything that has ever come to pass before. It’s undoubtable, marrow-deep love for the first person to truly see him.

Somehow Claude knows Byleth feels the same way. His friend isn’t emotionally literate in the slightest, which means he doesn’t have the language to describe the feeling. Hell, Claude didn’t put it together until he woke up with the guy in his arms.

Meeting Teach was a pearl on his strand. Another one is added as he realizes Byleth is his first love.


	10. Trust in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Byleth go for a ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shamelessly nicked the name for the white wyvern from [this adorable fanart by @sleepinggoblin on twitter](https://twitter.com/sleepinggoblin/status/1241849129225068550?lang=en)

**_Day 27 of the Pegasus Moon, Year 1185_ **

**_The sky is clear._ **

“So, what’s this one’s name?” 

Claude startles, not having heard his silent former professor sneak up on him. His cheeky wyvern didn’t give him any indication either. He swears he’s going to have a heart attack someday. Those are the silent footsteps of an excellent mercenary.

“This one?” he asks, petting the injured white wyvern on the snout. “Her name is Hilal. She was my mother’s, but her foot got pretty injured and  _ mâmân _ says I take good care of injured wyverns, so she had her sent over. It’s just a fractured bone, but  _ mâmân _ said I could keep her until I return home.”

“I’ve never seen an albino wyvern.”

“That’s why Mom chose her. She’s got a soft spot for things that come out the wrong color.”

Byleth frowns. “You’re not the wrong color. There’s no such thing.” Claude feels himself flush. Of course Teach would think that. “Your skin is beautiful, and it’s objectively cute when you blush.”

Claude feels dizzy again. He has to sit down. He’s never heard such kind words about his appearance. He’s used to whispers and gossip about how he’s too light or too dark and  _ who is his mother/father? _ Nobody has ever honestly called him beautiful. The closest he’s gotten is  _ exotic. _ Nobody other than his mother has ever called him cute.

“Thank you,” he says awkwardly.  _ Why is this so awkward? _

Sometimes talking to Byleth gets him tongue-tied and flustered. It’s not every time they interact, but when he says stuff like  _ that _ , it gets him in a tizzy. Having a best friend who supports you and lifts you up can be a bit uncomfortable in a good way. It’s something he’s never experienced and he feels so lucky to have one now.

“Don’t mention it,” Byleth says, sitting down beside Claude. 

Teach knocks their knees together and butterflies erupt in Claude’s stomach. He remembers that kiss on the cheek before Edelgard showed up on their doorstep. The butterflies flap uncontrollably. He feels so warm and happy with his best friend beside him. 

Claude rests his head on Byleth’s shoulder and sighs. “This feels nice. Being with you, I mean.”

“It does,” Byleth agrees, resting his head against Claude’s.

—

Claude can’t sleep. He’s anxious about marching out to Ailell tomorrow morning.

His feet drag him to the lower level of the dormitories, all the way to the end by the sauna. He’s not even sure how he gets there, but realizes that he neglected to put on a shirt before leaving his room. Oops.

He only needs to knock once before the door is opened. On the other side is Teach, looking equally anxious, yet sleepy.

Claude all but falls into his arms, feeling an immediate calm wash over him.

“‘Yes, Claude, I would love to carry you to bed,’ he says sarcastically.” Ha. Funny.

Claude’s not sure he likes the connotation that phrase has, but he’s too tired and panicky to really dwell on it further than a small skip in his chest.

“So, uh, sorry to just show up,” he mumbles as Byleth closes the door behind him.

“Don’t mention it,” Byleth says, depositing him on the bed before sitting down beside him. “It’s always nice to see you.”

“Even if it’s almost midnight, hours away from having to go to the hottest place in the world?” Claude asks sleepily.

“Even so,” Byleth tells him, leaving a kiss on his forehead. Claude’s heart gives one  _ thunk  _ against his ribs. He lays down beside him and pulls the blanket over them both.

Claude greedily drinks in his body heat, melting into him. Touch-starved as he’s been his whole life, he’s finally satiated when Byleth’s arms circle around him and his hands rest on Claude’s bare skin.

He falls asleep almost instantly, cuddled up close to his best friend.

—

**_Day 28 of the Pegasus Moon, Year 1185_ **

**_It’s still dark outside._ **

“I should probably go before anyone wakes up. Can’t get the rumor mill churning again. Of course, Dedue and Ashe aren’t here…” Claude trails off.

“That would probably be for the best,” Byleth acknowledges. “You didn’t even bother to put a shirt on.” To rectify that, Byleth fishes around in his drawers and tosses a thin shirt to Claude.

Claude quickly pulls it over his head and notices it smells like the incense Byleth occasionally burns. It’s something so personal that it brings a blush to Claude’s cheeks.

“I’ll see you in a while,” Teach says as Claude slips on his shoes. He remembered shoes and not a shirt.  _ Genius move, von Riegan. _

The next time he sees Byleth, he’ll be in his mercenary blacks rather than the soft pajamas that Claude liked feeling on his skin. He’s never slept better than being cocooned in such silky fabric and such warmth as his friend’s arms.

“Byleth.” Claude’s not sure what he’s intending to say, gripping the doorknob. He just feels like he  _ should  _ say something.

“Yes, Claude?”

“This is a lot different from the usual sneaking out I do.”

Byleth smirks and shakes his head. “Why? Because you’ll be back?”  _ That’s quite forward, Teach. _

“Yeah. Something like that,” he replies with a wink.

—

**_Day 31 of the Lone Moon, Year 1185_ **

**_The sun is starting to set._ **

“Is that you, kiddo?”

“I have returned,  _ Nardel _ ,” Claude says in a stilted voice. One glance at Teach and he knows. Of course he knows. He’s brilliant. Goddess, Claude loves that about him. It scared the shit out of him when he realized he loves Teach, but he’s gotten used to the idea. Is he going to tell him?  _ Hell no. _

“Oh, ah, Master Claude. It's you. I mistook you for one of the local children. My apologies.”

Claude moves past that without so much as an eyeroll, thank you very much. “It seems you have adjusted to your work here. Our recent strategy was successful, thanks to you.”

“I was a bit concerned when House Goneril's army intervened from the east,” Nader says.

“Count Gloucester must have requested reinforcements from them.”

“Yes, and they have that young general who won some acclaim from his battles in Almyra…” Holst. “Regardless, they showed no signs of seriously wishing to attack us, and merely fulfilled their obligations to House Gloucester. Now then… who is this handsome fella?”

Teach is as nonchalant as ever, but Claude actually blushes. He must’ve heard the real reason he was sent to Fódlan and is subtly trying to gauge what the connection is.

“This is my professor, who I asked to join me at the roundtable conference. Byleth, this is Nardel, that retainer Judith was talking about.”

“Nice to meet you,” Teach says with a small bow, but a side eye that says  _ tell me the truth later. _

“Hm, how polite. I've heard good things about you from Master Claude.”

“As you can see, he wasn't born in Fódlan. Still, trust me when I say he is highly capable,” he explains, being honest about that much when ears are all around.

“True. In fact, my capability is my only redeeming quality. I hope you'll continue to  _ look after _ Master Claude, Professor.”

_ Goddess, give me strength. _

—

Once the meeting is over, Claude leads Teach up to his room, hoping there aren’t too many eyes watching them go. The last thing he needs is rumors about his sexuality springing up in Derdriu too.

“Nader sure seemed to think this is something it isn’t,” Claude remarks awkwardly, sitting down on the side of the bed to yank off his boots. “Well, we’ll be back at Garreg Mach soon enough.”

“Back to sneaking around as if this is something it isn’t.”

“Right.” The silence between them is awkward for the first time in a long time. “I think my  _ pedar  _ must have told him why I was actually sent over here. That’s why he was laying it on so thick with the implications and calling you handsome and everything.”

“So I’m  _ not _ handsome is what you’re saying?” Byleth asks, folding his arms across his chest. There’s a glint of something mischievous in his eye that makes Claude feel giddy. It’s not awkward anymore. They’re just joking around, good ol’ Claudester and Teach.

“I mean, objectively, yes, very handsome. Like I said before, all the girls had a crush on you.”

“And you’re objectively very cute.”

“Cute? I’m supposed to look roguishly handsome.”

“Let’s split the difference and call you beautiful.”

That really hurts his heart. He has such a difficult time believing it that he wants to ignore it, but Teach is so earnest and never says things he doesn’t mean. “I never believed I was any of those things until you said it to me. You said there’s no such thing as the wrong color.”

“There isn’t,” he says, sitting down beside Claude. “Society and culture tell us there are rights and wrongs, but I wasn’t brought up with those prejudices and it makes it a little hard for me to grasp. All I know is you are my best friend, my Claude, and you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“So our friendship has blinded you?” Claude asks with a grin.

Byleth smacks him in the shoulder. “I think I see you more clearly than anyone else.”

“And you still like me well enough to keep me around?”

“Of course I do. You’re my Claude.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said ‘my Claude.’ Is that like ‘my Teach’ where you actually were my teacher at one point and you’re just saying my name in place of the word student or—”

“I believe that I am yours and you are mine.” Claude is sure happy he’s already sitting down because it makes him  _ real  _ dizzy. “Am I wrong in that assumption?”

“No, no. We’re each other’s best friend, so that’s… No, it’s good. It’s cool. Can we get some sleep? I had to kill a few people today and then go talk to a bunch of noblemen and it’s kind of fucking me up.”

“Of course,” Byleth says, kicking off his own boots and climbing into bed fully dressed. Claude puts his head in his best friend’s lap and falls asleep to the feeling of his hair being played with.

—

**_Day 5 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1186_ **

**_The sun is rising._ **

“Guess who’s well enough to be taken out for a ride,” Claude says brightly, dragging Byleth into the wyvern stable.

“I’m guessing it’s Hilal,” he replies, looking at the massive creature as she nuzzles Claude.

“Do you want to pet her? She’s really nice,” Claude offers. He knows Byleth is afraid of wyverns. He’s been skittish around them ever since he was a brand new professor and he is still wary by the looks of things. Even with Hilda, Claude, Petra, Cyril, and Seteth riding them into battle, he’s terrified.

He looks Claude right in the eyes as he takes a step forward, then another. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Claude as he sticks out his hand. Hilal purrs and rubs her snout against his outstretched hand.

“See? She likes you,” Claude says with a huge grin. “Wanna go for a ride with me? She really needs to stretch her wings.”

“She doesn’t even have a saddle on!” 

“Then you’d better hold on tight.”

—

“So I’ve been reading the official biography of the Four Saints, as sanctioned by the church,” Claude shouts over the whipping wind. “I know you're not very familiar with the teachings of Seiros, but even you must have read it at least once.”

“Maybe. I don’t think so. Don’t let go,” Byleth says, clutching Claude tightly. 

“Tell me again… How exactly did you manage to get a job teaching at an academy run by the church?”

“I don’t know,” Byleth manages, burying his face into the back of Claude’s shoulder. His arms around Claude’s middle are cinched tight. He’s afraid of wyverns  _ and  _ heights. Adorable.

“Well, whether you've read the biography or not, the Four Saints must at least ring a bell, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Well then, I've got a little quiz for you. Name the Four Saints, companions of the great Saint Seiros. I'll give you a hint. There was Cichol, Cethleann, Indech, and… who was the fourth one again?”

“Macuil.”

“Correct! I was hoping you'd know that much at least. In any case, you can learn some interesting things reading about the life and times of Saint Macuil. For instance, he was more skilled with his hands than his fellow saints, and even became an accomplished blacksmith. He used his skills to forge countless sacred weapons for the army of Seiros. Of course, he didn't just  _ forge _ weapons. He also used them in battle himself. Legends say his strength was second only to Seiros. It's even said that he played a big role in the Battle of Tailtean, where Seiros fought Nemesis, the King of Liberation who became the king of evil. Macuil lost his life in that battle, and now his body rests in a coffin within the Holy Mausoleum. Or so one story goes.”

“What does that have to do with this?”

“I’m getting there. Another legend says he set off on a journey to find a new land. That he left Fódlan from the east, crossed the sea, and vanished. He must have left Alliance territory, but where exactly would he have set sail from, I wonder? Thinking about it reminds me of another interesting story concerning the Sreng Region. There are ruins built to worship a sacred beast that appeared from across the sea. If the ruins have something to do with Saint Macuil, there could be sacred weapons there… So? Have I piqued your interest or what?”

“Yes. Maybe a little.”

“You always have to play it cool, don't you? Just think of how useful it would be to have weapons like that! We'd be there and back in no time. No one would even notice we were gone. Come on, Teach! Let's go to Sreng! I always see it through once I set my mind on something.”

“Is that why you’ve done  _ this  _ crazy thing?”

“Yep,” he says brightly. “Don’t let go of me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

—

Byleth immediately sits down after dismounting Hilal. He’s probably feeling dizzy. Claude felt that way after his first wyvern ride too. Considering he didn’t even get a saddle this time must’ve been terrifying. Maybe Claude was being mean by doing the loops and barrel rolls on the way back, but it was a lot of fun. Hilal trusts him.

“Thanks for all your hard work, Byleth. Sorry for dragging you along with me. I had no idea it would turn into a fight. But hey, at least we got some treasure out of it. I'll leave this in your capable hands. Do with it as you will,” Claude says, taking the sword off his belt and handing it to his dizzy friend.

“Why don't we share it?”

Claude grins. “How would we do that? Give it to whoever you think it'll suit best. More importantly, I didn't go there looking for treasure. Not really. Legends about the saints abound. It's hard to tell fact from fiction. I like to confirm whatever I can, with my own eyes, to find the truth in those legends.”

“What did you find out?” 

“Not a thing. We didn't find anything concrete to prove that Saint Macuil had been there. We can't say for certain that the treasure we found was Macuil's either.” Claude sighs, sitting beside his best friend, resting his head on his shoulder. “I do wish we could have spoken to that Wind Caller a bit more.” 

“Could it have been Saint Macuil?” Teach proposes.

“Ha! Unlikely. Macuil lived thousands of years ago. And I've never heard anything about the saints being monsters like that. Wait a minute… Could the Wind Caller have anything to do with the Immaculate One? The Immaculate One is a monster sent by the goddess… Could the Wind Caller be… Where was it that I heard that stuff about them having been sent by the goddess… Ugh, maybe I'm too tired. My head is heavy and I can't think straight anymore. Let's call it a day for now. I've got plenty of time to think this over.”

“Claude,” Byleth says as he tries to stand up, grabbing him by the forearm, “you read it in something private of Tomas— er,  _ Solon’s _ . Seteth confiscated it and it probably ended up where all the rest of the confiscated material does — Abyss. Let’s not call it a day just yet.”

Claude beams at him. “Have I ever told you how brilliant you are?”

“Once or twice.”

Claude grins and slips his arm around Byleth’s waist, helping him to his feet after his disorienting ride, and he grins too.

—

“Sylvain and Linhardt come in periodically to sort through and organize this stuff,” Byleth says, running his fingers over the spines of different books. “Linhardt because he actually wants to learn and Sylvain because he’s looking for smut.”

Claude laughs, a great belly laugh. “Good ol’ predictable Sylvain.”

“Do you want to try looking on the shelves while I look in the stacks?”

Claude nods and sets to work. He pulls book after book out, skimming for pertinent information. 

Tucked into the fifth book, he finds a letter that immediately jumps out of him.

_ Claudia, Second Daughter of House Riegan _

Hm. That’s fascinating. He shows it to Teach who responds with a nod after reading the contents of the letter. “Must be when Daphnel split into Galatea.”

“Claudia… I wonder if that’s what my grandfather named me after. I thought it was because it sounds like my birth name.”

“Maybe your mother named you an Almyran name that sounds like an ancestral Riegan name.”

“Guess I’ll have to ask her about that someday,” he says, returning to the shelves. He wrinkles his nose and adds, “Hope I don’t have to take after my namesake and marry Ingrid or Judith.”

They work with mindless chatter, working their way around the library. Byleth calls him over after about an hour and a half.

“It’s the Immaculate One, almost the very picture you showed me. That’s what Rhea turned into before she disappeared.”

“Wait,  _ what _ ?” Claude asks, blindsided. “What’s the thing that was guarding the bow of Saint Indech? The one Linhardt told Leonie about… It asked if you were the incarnation of Sothis. Linhardt called it a saint. What if the Wind Caller  _ is  _ Saint Macuil and the Immovable was Saint Indech? We’re just missing Cethleann and Cichol.”

“Does it change anything that I heard Flayn call Indech ‘Uncle’?”

Claude drops the book in his hands. “Then Seteth would be Cichol. Cichol was Indech and Macuil’s brother. Is Cethleann their sister? She’s Seteth’s sister. But how would he be an uncle?”

“He  _ did _ confide in me that Flayn is actually his daughter and that a shrine to Saint Cichol on the Rhodos Coast was also his wife’s grave.”

“And Rhea must be some sort of saint as well. Seiros? Did we just unearth a conspiracy?” 

Claude can’t help the grin on his face and it appears to be contagious based on Teach’s face.

Byleth rises to his feet and Claude picks him up and twirls him around. Maybe not the  _ best  _ idea after his wyvern experience, but he’s just so excited. They’ve found something to fill in some of the gaps left by the church.

When he sets Byleth down, he looks into his eyes and pulls him into a tight hug.

Answers to fill in some of those gaps. They finally have some answers. Rhea will need to fill them in on a lot more, but this is a start. This is a great, big fucking  _ start. _


	11. Deer and Lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude catches up with some Blue Lions.

**_Day 30 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1186_ **

**_The fog of war has cleared._ **

“Even in an ugly battle like this, it's important not to lose heart. We have to take pride in our victory. We did it, Teach. Now we can move forward. To our victory,” Claude says, feeling dejected.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a bloody blue and blond creature shambling in the direction of the Imperial Army, a man in heavy armor struggling to catch up behind him.

Teach sees it at the exact same time and Claude goes to mount Hilal, but Teach tosses the Sword of the Creator toward Leonie and takes off in a sprint. Claude watches as his best friend speeds along and eventually makes the jump. Dimitri is on the ground and Claude doesn’t even take off.

He watches as they wrestle in the muddy grass, trading blows until the man in the armor reaches them and conks the blond in the back of the head.

Dimitri’s suicide mission has been thwarted.

That  _ sprint  _ though. Holy shit. Teach was bleeding pretty badly himself and Dimitri was even more so, but still moving fast. The time it took for Byleth to spot Dimitri and have him on his back was insane. Obviously he’s physically fit, but that was something else entirely.

Claude might have to go on runs throughout the monastery if he wants to keep up.

—

**_Day 2 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1186_ **

**_The sun is shining._ **

Claude finds himself knocking on Teach’s door about a quarter past midnight. He remembered a shirt this time. He always remembers a shirt after that first time.

Byleth looks as if he was expecting Claude and doesn’t have to tell him to come in.

“You look like shit,” Claude remarks.

“You  _ could  _ leave.”

Claude sees the beginning of bruises at the wrists of Byleth’s sleeves and cuts all over his face. He has two black eyes courtesy of Dimitri.

“Take your clothes off,” Claude says and immediately wishes he could shove the words back in his mouth and find a more tactful way to say that. “I mean, there’s a lot of bruising and broken skin and I’m fairly certain you didn’t let Manuela clean them out properly because she would linger too long on your chest.”

Byleth chuckles. “Am I that obvious?”

“ _ She  _ is that obvious. C’mere, shirt and pants off. I’m guessing she gave you antiseptic?”

Byleth tosses him the bottle before peeling his shirt off. Goddess, it is so much worse than Claude anticipated. He really  _ does  _ need someone to help with this because there is no way he could reach any of the ones on his back.

The pants come off and the underwear stays on, thank Sothis. There are slashes to the backs of his legs and ankles and a puncture in his right thigh, probably an arrow wound.

“You didn’t let Mercedes or Linhardt or Marianne or Flayn look at you,  _ why  _ exactly?”

“Linhardt fixed my broken ankle after I fought with Dimitri.”

Hold on. Whoa. Broken ankle? “Wait, did you have the broken ankle before or after you made that mad dash?”

“I landed wrong coming off the central hill as I charged toward Edelgard.”

He made that sprint with a broken ankle. Goddess above, he made that fucking sprint with a fucking  _ broken ankle _ . He swears he could kiss him for his remarkability. Mostly Claude is impressed by his pain tolerance. He doesn’t so much as wince as he dabs antiseptic into the wounds on his chest.

“You didn’t want Dimitri to throw his life away for revenge, eh?”

“He may have not been in my class, but you were all my students.”

“I know. There’s a reason the Blue Lions and Black Eagles showed up for the Millennium Festival. It wasn’t for Manuela or Hanneman. You really stepped up once Edelgard announced her betrayal,” he says, because Teach really needs to know it. “Turn over on your stomach for me.”

The wounds on his back are deeper than the ones on his front and he reveals the slightest bit of pain in the way he grips the sheets as Claude starts cleaning them out, but he doesn’t flinch away from Claude’s touch. 

“Did Manuela send you with bandages?” Claude asks with a frown.

“On the desk.”

“I had to clean and bandage my own wounds a lot growing up. Getting dragged behind a horse was far from painless and getting beaten up by my brothers and kids in town didn’t feel great either, you know? I would sit out with Aisha and she would cover me with her wing while I refused to cry, pouring straight up alcohol into my wounds.”

“You inspire kindness in wyverns, don’t you? I noticed how well Hilal protected you on the battlefield.”

“She did. I gave her a few extra fishes for the trouble. She started purring and kept grabbing me with her wing when I tried to leave, just to give me another nuzzle.”

“I think she’s in love with you,” Teach teases.

“She thinks I’m her pet that needs protection. Speaking of pets, there’s a cat that keeps joining her in the stables. It sleeps under her wing. I named it Felix because it has dark fur and hissed at me.”

“And she hasn’t eaten him?”

“Wyverns really are gentle creatures, Byleth. You don’t have to be afraid of them.”

“I’m not  _ afraid _ , they just have too many sharp teeth for me to be comfortable with.” Ha. Yep. He’s afraid of wyverns.

“You’ll have to get used to them by the time I bring you home to meet my mom.”

“Meet your mother? Like I’m some maiden you’re courting?” Byleth asks with an amused snort.

“She wants to meet you. I wrote her a letter the night my grandfather died and, honestly, most of it was about you,” Claude admits, glad that Teach is facing away from him and can’t see the redness that comes to his cheeks. “I missed you and your… entire deal. Your impossibility, your brilliance, just  _ everything _ .”

“I hadn’t even been gone a week, had I?”

“I can miss you in that short of time! I spent every day with you for a whole year. A week of forced withdrawal wasn’t healthy. I needed to be tapered off.”

“And if I’m another casualty of this war?”

“Then I’ll fight Dimitri to the death for the chance to take Edelgard’s head.”

“Don’t let revenge take over your mind,” he requests.

“I…” He wishes he could say  _ I can’t promise that because I love you. _ He doesn’t want to scare off the only person he’s ever truly loved. “I’ll try.”

—

**_Day 3 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1186_ **

**_All is cloudy._ **

Claude wakes up to an empty bed. There is dried blood on the sheets where Teach had been laying all night, but not a Teach in sight.

He reluctantly gets out of bed, knowing he has shit to do, but he’d love to luxuriate in this tiny, warm bed that smells like his best friend.

Sword training is first on his agenda. Byleth has seen fit to give him the Sword of Begalta as it was the two of them that found it and Byleth obviously already has a legendary sword on his hip.

Claude is hoping he finds Felix at the training grounds so he can help him out. Who is he kidding? He’s definitely going to find Felix.

Of course, he does find Felix there, a little less finessed than usual in the way he hacks at the training dummy.

“What’s up, Felix?” seems to be the wrong question to ask because he then has a training sword at his throat.

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” Felix sneers as he lowers the blade.

“I’m looking to do some sword training. Teach and I found a legendary sword and—”

“And you’re only proficient with a bow and axe.”

“It’s the kind of thing that gets drilled into you where I come from.”

“And that’s  _ where  _ exactly?”

“It’s unimportant. It’s where my dad’s from and I don’t really like my dad all that much.”

“I didn’t like my father either. He and I didn’t see eye to eye after my brother’s death. He tried to make me fit into a Glenn-shaped mold and it didn’t work.”

This is the most Claude’s ever heard Felix say at once. And it’s so  _ personal. _ Does Claude just have one of those faces or is Felix going through something?

“Didn’t? You’ve warmed up to Rodrigue?”

“He’s dead. Died fighting the boar’s stupid war at Gronder. I knew there was a reason he stopped responding to my requests for aid, but never considered the boar wasn’t really dead. He was more of a son to my father than I was.”

Yep. He’s going through something. It makes Claude’s heart ache.

“I’m so sorry, Felix.”

“I don’t want your pity. Go grab a training sword and fight me. You’re far from a worthy opponent, but if the professor thinks you’re worthy of a sword, I could at least teach you how to use it.”

—

“Hey, Dedue,” Claude says, jogging to catch up with the behemoth of a man despite his screaming muscles.  _ Thanks for that, Felix. _ “Wait up.”

“Claude,” he acknowledges with a curt nod. “I was headed to the dining hall.”

“I was too. I heard they’re serving vegetable stir-fry and I want to get there before Raphael and Ingrid eat it all.”

“Are you sure you’re hungry or are you going to grill me for information?” Blunt as always. 

“I can do both, can’t I?” he asks with a coy grin, fluttering his lashes.

Dedue says nothing, but lets Claude struggle to keep up with his long strides. He’s so  _ tall. _ Flirting isn’t the answer here, though Claude would love to flirt with him. If he weren’t so singularly focused on Dimitri, he’d be really hot. Gigantic and handsome with a soft middle that loves cooking, gardening, and needlepoint. Obviously he’s still hot anyway, but not as hot as he could be if he weren’t so hung up on someone else.

“The professor is with His Highness, if you were wondering.”

He  _ was  _ wondering, but he was a little too busy getting his ass handed to him by Felix to have that at the forefront of his mind. The swordmaster does not hold back. He’d love to go up against him in a bow tournament. Let’s see who’d win that one.

“Eh, Teach isn’t my primary concern right now.”

“But he is a concern.”

Dedue and Ashe were the ones who questioned whether he and Teach were having an affair that night they stayed up reading Jeralt’s diary. Of course he’s still suspicious.

“War is hard on all of us and he’s my best friend and the leader of my army. I worry about him, especially after all the injuries he sustained during that three-way battle.”

“I worry about His Highness in the same way. The professor forced me to get food so he could talk one-on-one with him.”

“Forced or strongly encouraged?”

“The latter, I suppose. He can be stern when he wants to be.”

“He really can.” He’s the only one who can make Claude sit down and make his brain stop working. He’s a wizard at that.

“Do you have any idea what he might be talking to His Highness about?

“If I had to guess, it’s his stupid suicidal run toward the Imperial army.”

“He’s calmed a bit now. He’s a little less feral since he heard Rodrigue died. He was like a father to him. Last night he told me he couldn’t throw his life away since Rodrigue sacrificed his own… I know you told your army not to attack ours. You were focused on Edelgard. It wasn’t like the mock battle when we were younger, there was no need to divide your forces.”

“That was Byleth’s idea. Your army hadn’t done anything to antagonize us until we were in the heat of battle itself. Sure, you guys pursued us, but we tried to direct your efforts toward Edelgard.”

“The colors flown by the ones who killed Rodrigue were red and black. You don’t need to feel guilt about his death.”

“I feel guilt about every death,” Claude says with a small shrug. It’s true. Every death weighs on him. It’s why he needs a living security blanket to sleep at night.

—

“How’s Dimitri?” 

Byleth turns and smiles when he sees Claude walk up the steps of the Goddess Tower. “He’s calmed considerably since punching me in the face repeatedly.”

“Is he going to help us take Enbarr?”

“He wants to go home first. That’s just not feasible. Both of our sides lost considerably. We can take Fhirdiad once Edelgard is dead.”

“So you’ve resigned to killing her.”

“Do I have any other choice, Claude?” he asks and Claude can see clearly the tears in his eyes. “She needs to die for her reign of terror to end. She claims she fights for peace, but she’s the one who started this goddamn war. You don’t  _ start  _ wars for peace.”

“She says her goals aren’t that different from my own, but I was unwilling to kill in service of my ambitions. That’s the difference between the two of us.”

“You’re a good man, Claude,” Byleth says gently. “I’d follow your dreams anywhere.”

“I need your steady hand to help guide the way,” Claude replies, taking one of those hands and giving it a squeeze.

“For you? Anything.”


	12. With Everything I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Byleth reach a conclusion.

**_Day 29 of the Garland Moon, Year 1186_ **

**_The sun is out._ **

“The time has finally come, my friend. Once we win this fight, the Empire will fall…” 

“What will we do about Fódlan?” he asks, eyes never leaving Claude’s.

“The subject is heavy on my mind. Odd as it sounds, I believe the forces responsible for destroying Fódlan are also responsible for protecting the livelihood of its citizens. Everything, even the land itself, has been harmed by the chaos of war. Restoring it will be no easy feat. To do that, the first thing we need to think about is a new ruling system for all of Fódlan.”

“We could unify Fódlan as one nation,” he proposes. 

Claude grins. “As usual, we're on the same page. I was thinking the same thing. Even if the Alliance lords and any remaining influential nobles were to divide up dominion of all of Fódlan, they would simply pursue their own interests. Another war would be inevitable. That's why there needs to be a powerful ruler who stands above them all and unifies Fódlan as one nation.”

“You should be that ruler, Claude.”

He searches his friend’s face for any sign of teasing or joking and finds absolutely none. He’s dead serious. “If it means I can lead Fódlan to a better future, I wouldn't mind that at all,” he admits. “My dreams await in a future where Fódlan is no longer ravaged by war. There are things I want to see with you someday.”

“What kind of things?”

“A world at peace. I want you to see Almyra and I want trade and people and ideas to flow freely from nation to nation. I want…”  _ To stop being too afraid to say ‘I love you.’  _ “I'll keep thinking about the best way to achieve those goals. Whatever we decide to do, we can't do it until we defeat the Empire. Fódlan can't welcome a new dawn until we win the war. Let's prepare as best we can.”

—

“It's over. We were only able to beat her because of you,” Claude says, cradling Byleth’s face in one hand. His thumb brushes over his cheek, cleaning off a bit of Edelgard’s blood.  _ Edelgard’s fucking blood. _ Byleth looks more than just heartbroken. He looks  _ broken. _ “This wasn't the conclusion I had hoped for. Even though… I… Never mind. It's over now. The important thing is that we won.”

Byleth starts to cry and Claude embraces him immediately. He can feel the tears against his neck as his body racks with sobs. Claude wishes he could do something for him, but this is all he  _ can  _ do. He can just hold him while he falls to pieces and try to keep the pieces together.

He doesn’t get long because Judith appears with a letter from Hubert.

This isn’t over. Not yet.

—

**_Day 2 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1186_ **

**_All is cloudy._ **

Dimitri’s bloodlust hasn’t quite been sated. He didn’t personally get to take Edelgard’s head, but he’s satisfied that Teach did it at least. But he’s not joyous in victory. In fact, he’s pretty dour.

“What’s got you down?” Claude asks, sitting down beside the prince in what used to be the Blue Lions classroom. He’s holding a bottle of finely aged wine, seemingly contemplating opening it.

“I have a feeling those who orchestrated the Tragedy of Duscur are the same ones that orchestrated this war. Vengeance has yet to be mine.”

“Well, we’re in this together, aren’t we?”

“Hmmph.”

It’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes. “Something else is bothering you.”

“How do I get Dedue to call me by my name? He saved my life and his life debt has been repaid, but he still refuses to treat me as an equal. It’s always ‘Your Highness’ and the dutiful vassal routine.”

“Repaid as the debt is, he’s still a man of Duscur in Fódlan and it’s possible retaining the formality is comforting as it’s all he ever knew here.”

“I just want to kiss him without fearing that he’s just reciprocating out of duty, you know? I think I’m in love with him. No, I’m definitely in love with him.”

That’s not something Claude ever anticipated hearing. The prince of Faerghus in love with a man? Shocking.

“I don’t know what to say,” Claude admits.

“It’s the same thing you and the professor have. The power dynamic is different because he was your teacher. Do you ever wonder if the reason you kiss him back is because he was your  _ Teach? _ ”

“I think you’re reading into our relationship wrong. He and I are just friends. We’ve never kissed.”

“My apologies. I just assumed because of the way you held him after he killed Edelgard.”

“He’s my best friend. Of course I’m going to comfort him when he’s upset.”

“Yes. Friends. I can’t even get Dedue to be my friend. He’s always going to be my vassal.”

“I’m so sorry,” Claude says genuinely, putting a hand on Dimitri’s.

He’s not at all prepared for what comes next. Claude never imagined the prince of Faerghus putting his mouth on his own. He never imagined the prince of Faerghus would be such a good kisser. He never imagined the prince of Faerghus’s tongue in his mouth.

Claude surrenders to it. It’s been so long. Fooling around with Dimitri wouldn’t be the worst person he’s done.

At least it  _ would  _ have been. They didn’t exactly account for Sylvain and Felix walking in in the midst of an argument.

“There is a book in my desk that will prove you wro— Oh, okay. That’s… Felix, we should go?”

“We should go,” Felix repeats, eyes narrowed at the pair suspiciously.

“Mouths. Shut,” Dimitri says murderously.

“Yep. Got it, Your Highness.  _ Claude _ ,” Sylvain adds, waggling his eyebrows. Felix smacks him hard on the chest.

“We should go too,” Claude suggests. 

“This was a mistake,” Dimitri agrees.

“Alright! If they’re not going to fuck, I can find my book and prove you wrong,” Sylvain says brightly, booping Felix on the nose. Felix grumbles something unintelligible as Dimitri and Claude walk out of the room.

“Twenty gold that’s what they’re going to do,” Dimitri says under his breath.

Claude snorts. “I’ll take that action.”

—

**_Day 24 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1186_ **

**_Sunset is beautiful._ **

Twenty-four on the twenty-fourth. Hilda said that’s a special birthday and Claude didn’t stop her from explaining why. It’s a golden birthday and any wish you make blowing out your birthday candles will come true.

He could wish them victory at Shambhala, but he knows under Teach’s leadership that they will be victorious anyway.

He could wish them an end to all the fighting, but this victory should be their last, right? They won’t have to fight once they vanquish those who slither in the dark.

No, he makes the most selfish wish he can imagine. He wishes to finally be loved. The way Byleth smiles at him makes him feel like it came true. Maybe it was already true. Wishes are well and good, but Hilda’s idea of a golden birthday seems about as realistic as the Goddess Tower on the night of the ball.

—

**_Day 1 of the Verdant Rain Moon, Year 1186_ **

**_The Star Terrace is chilly._ **

“I am happy to see you two…” Rhea says as she comes out to the terrace. She looks weak and in pain and Claude feels a little guilty for this, but he needs to know.

“Sorry to interrupt your rest. But there are some things that we absolutely must ask you,” Claude insists.

“It seems I do not have much time left. I do not intend to hide anything any longer.” She’s  _ dying?  _ Oh no. This is the only chance they’ll get to ask these questions. “Rhea… I have to ask. You're the Immaculate One, aren't you? If what I'm thinking is correct, that's what the children of the goddess is referring to. In other words, you—”

“I am the last child of the progenitor god. A long time ago, the progenitor god came from somewhere far away and descended upon this continent. She changed her form to resemble that of a human, and gave her own blood to birth her children. The progenitor god and her children shared knowledge and skills with the people of the land. Together, they built a prosperous civilization. But the humans turned their backs on the teachings of the progenitor god and engaged in senseless wars. Eventually people began to think of themselves as gods and challenged the progenitor god herself to battle. The land was scorched in the war that ensured and the majority of humans were annihilated. I believe that those who slither in the dark are the descendants of those who retreated beneath the ground during that time.”

“So they had been waiting all that time for their chance at revenge…”

“It took the progenitor god an astonishing amount of time to revive the ravaged world. But eventually, the continent found peace again, and the progenitor god, having fulfilled her duty, fell into a long slumber in the Holy Tomb. The children who stayed behind built a settlement in Zanado to protect the Holy Tomb as they quietly lived out their lives. But then Nemesis appeared, bringing tragedy along with him. Even now I cannot forget the sight of that massive canyon, painted red with blood. I was never able to forgive those who proudly wielded weapons crafted from the corpses of my brethren.” 

Wait,  _ what? _ What the fuck does that mean? 

“I was the only survivor of Zanado, and all I could do was wander across Fódlan clinging to my desperate desire for revenge. I called myself Seiros, fostered the founding of the Empire, and prepared to oppose Nemesis and his followers.”

“Unbelievable…”

“I put Zanado behind me to gather the remaining children who were scattered across Fódlan… Finally, we killed Nemesis on the Tailtean Plains, and I took back the Sword of the Creator.”

“Let me get this straight. Saint Seiros  _ is _ you? We came to a similar conclusion after meeting Saints Macuil and Indech. We realized Saint Cichol and Saint Cethleann were Seteth and Flayn, but to hear our suspicion that you are both the Immaculate One and Saint Seiros…” Claude is in awe. It was just a conspiracy theory, but they were  _ right. _ Goddess above, he didn’t expect that. He certainly didn’t expect Rhea’s soft smile as he laid out their findings.

“You always were resolute once you put your mind to something, Claude.”

He blushes. Saint Seiros her-fucking-self is praising him.

He doesn’t get a chance to respond before a knight comes out onto the terrace.

“Professor. Claude. There's something you need to hear right away.”

“If you have something to report, do so at once. There is no need to let my presence worry you,” Rhea says calmly.

“As you wish… We're receiving a constant stream of express messengers from cities to the east. They claim that an unidentified military force is attacking and that there have already been a large number of casualties.”

“What?!” Claude asks panickedly.

“The reports indicate that the cities and towns along the East Gronder Thoroughfare in the old Hrym territory have already been destroyed. Some villages were razed completely, leaving no survivors…”

“Damn it! Did they come from Shambhala? Could it be that there were some remnants of that wicked group hiding there?” Claude demands.

Hilda and another knight come rushing out.

“I have a report! The unidentified military force has crossed the Great Bridge of Myrddin! Alliance forces met them in battle, but it seems they have already broken through!” the knight reports.

“They've already made it so far. Is Count Gloucester unharmed?” Claude asks, hoping for Lorenz’s sake he is.

“The count is fine, but apparently my brother joined with reinforcements and was gravely injured,” Hilda says solemnly.

“You mean to tell me they easily got past a general as skilled as Holst?” Yeah, this is turning into a panic attack very fast.

“They say the enemy general has a weapon that resembles the Sword of the Creator. Even my brother was powerless to stop him…”

“The Sword of the Creator?” Byleth asks.

“That's not possible,” Claude says, looking at the weapon on Byleth’s hip.  _ That  _ is the Sword of the Creator. This must be some pale imitation or something. This is… This is not happening. This is  _ not  _ happening. The fighting was over! They  _ won! _

“The enemy forces are flying a banner bearing the Crest of Flames as they continue their march west along the Airmid River,” one knight says. Rhea gasps. 

“We believe they're marching toward Garreg Mach. We are preparing to meet them in battle,” the other says.

Hilda and the two knights leave to begin that preparation. Claude and Byleth  _ should  _ go with them, but this is important. These blanks need to be filled in.

“A weapon that resembles the Sword of the Creator and a banner bearing the Crest of Flames… There is only one explanation. The one leading the enemy force is Nemesis himself.”

“Nemesis?  _ That _ Nemesis? Do you really think the ancient King of Liberation has been brought back to life?” Claude asks, shocked beyond belief.

“Perhaps the seal was broken when Shambhala fell. An incredible power that we children cannot hope to match dwells within the blood of the progenitor god. Nemesis obtained that blood, so it would not surprise me if that were the case,” Rhea says.

“The blood of the progenitor god… That's right, he did take the remains from the Holy Tomb, didn't he?”

“From the blood of the progenitor god, Sothis, he acquired the Crest of Flames. From her bones and heart, he crafted the Sword of the Creator.”

“The Sword of the Creator is made from her bones and heart?” Claude asks in disgust, looking at the blade on Teach’s hip. That’s the goddess’s  _ spine. _ He might actually throw up.

“The heart of Sothis is the Crest Stone that was placed in the Sword of the Creator. The same is true of the Crests of the Ten Elites and the other Crest Stones. They were born of the blood and hearts of the progenitor god's children. Those who slither in the dark created them. Stole them. Sothis never gifted that power to the humans.”

Failnaught is made of someone’s bones. What body part is that even? The Crest in his body is from stolen blood. That must be why the Lance of Ruin twitches. So  _ gross. _

“The Crests of the Ten Elites, the Crest Stones, and the Heroes' Relics… I can't believe those who slither in the dark made them all. And after that, Nemesis used the Sword of the Creator to massacre all of the progenitor god's children in Zanado. In other words, the citizens of Zanado were killed by weapons made from the remains of their brethren. How atrocious. But I don't get it. The Sword of the Creator that Teach wields doesn't have a Crest Stone. So how is Teach able to wield its full power?”

“The Crest Stone of the progenitor god dwells within your professor.”

Claude gasps and locks eyes with his best friend, eyes so different and yet the same as the ones he gazed into as they danced at the ball. His heart doesn’t beat, but he has a pulse… He’s felt that pulse and that lack of heartbeat. 

“After I battled with Nemesis as Saint Seiros, I reclaimed the heart of Sothis. I wanted to use that heart to resurrect her. Even though I had to do some questionable things to achieve that goal, I wished to see Sothis, my mother, once more.”

“You placed her heart in me?” Byleth’s voice is broken and filled with unshed tears. This must cause a crisis of identity. Claude is going to hug the hell out of him later.

“Yes. I believed that if I could resurrect my mother, I could regain all that had been lost.”

“So… that's the truth of it.”

“I suspected that your body housed the consciousness of Sothis. Those suspicions were correct. And yet, she merely gave you her power and vanished, My dearest wish did not come true. But you did inherit the power of the progenitor god. Now, you must use that power to defeat Nemesis once and for all. Fódlan's blood-stained history must end.”

—

**_Day 2 of the Verdant Rain Moon, Year 1186_ **

**_It’s warm._ **

“You've got the heart of the goddess in you. My flabber is completely gasted right now,” Claude says upon finding Byleth alone with the statues of the Four Saints, sitting on the floor and looking at the ceiling.

“Who am I, Claude? Has anything I’ve ever done been genuine or am I just a vessel that Sothis operates? We used to speak, her and I, and she chastised me for some of my actions, but what if that was the consciousness of whoever I am fighting back against the one who was really controlling me?”

Claude sits down beside him and puts an arm around him. “Hey, Byleth, it’s alright. You’re not Sothis. She lives in you, but you are your own person. Rhea knows that. It’s why she was so disappointed when you sat on that throne and nothing happened. She hoped Sothis would awake and any trace of Byleth would be gone, but that didn’t happen. You’re still you. You’re still… everything to me.  _ You _ are my best friend and nobody else.”

Byleth snuggles up to him, resting his face against Claude’s neck. Claude holds him as he cries, letting him express his pain and trying to love him until he doesn’t hurt anymore.

Flayn and Seteth find them sitting there after a few hours of just holding each other. Their faces look grim. 

“She won’t make it,” Seteth says gravely. “I’m not certain how much time she has left, but we’re falling short on methods that might heal her.”

“Isn’t there something you can do? Aren’t you all Children of the Goddess?” Claude asks.

“You know.”

“Of course we know, Cichol. We’re not stupid,” Claude retorts.

“Professor. Are you able to carry on Rhea's work?” Flayn asks. “As the protector of Fódlan and as leader of the people who live here, you must defend the people. Guide them and teach them. Join their hearts and spread peace across the whole of the land.”

“It is not as though you must become the archbishop once she is gone, but Fódlan needs leadership. It is up to you to govern this war-torn land.”

“I was going to nominate Claude for that role,” Byleth admits. “I’m no leader.”

“You’ve led this army and all of those students. No leader? You’re the leader of us all,” Seteth insists. “You need not reply right this moment. We will strive to heal Rhea as best we can, but please make a decision soon. We are all counting on you.”

Seteth and Flayn clear out and another batch of tears surface. 

“They wouldn’t be asking me if it weren’t for the heart of the goddess inside me.”

“That has nothing to do with your leadership capabilities, my friend. I would feel comfortable returning home if I knew Fódlan was in your capable hands.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m going to have to eventually. My father isn’t going to live forever. If you’re the leader of Fódlan and I’m the leader of Almyra, we could make our dream come true. Goddess, don't you ever feel like you've been destined for something bigger than your skin? That’s what we are. You and me, Teach, we’re meant to foster unity between our two lands.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Byleth repeats.

“It will be a while. My father is healthy. He’ll be around for a good while. Until then, well, I suppose  _ someone  _ needs to help with the eastern side of the continent.”

“Judith would be a great help, I agree.”

They share a look and Byleth gives him a grin. Claude pulls him in close and rocks him back and forth a few times. “You’ll always be in my heart, no matter where we are.”

—

**_Day 31 of the Verdant Rain Moon, Year 1186_ **

**_The air is tense._ **

_ My dearest Khalid, _

_ There has been an accident. Your father has been killed. I cannot say more because the incident is still under investigation, but it’s very sudden and very upsetting to me and the people. _

_ My sweet son, you must come home. I’m sure there are people in Fódlan who can take your place in the wars. Your family needs you now. Your half-brother Yousef is already planning a coronation ceremony for himself. He is trying to usurp your birthright. You belong here in Almyra. Gather Nader and Hilal and come home. This might turn bloody between you and your brother and you’ll need all the assistance you can get. _

_ Love and regards, _

_ Queen Tiana of Almyra _

He lets the letter flutter to the ground. He’s in disbelief. 

He has to leave? This wasn’t part of his plan. He had more time in his head. He would help get things squared away here. They were supposed to do this together, at least in the beginning. He had more time. Byleth wanted to wield the Sword of the Creator in Claude’s plan to bring the world together. He said he’d do anything for him. 

He doesn’t want to go.

—

**_Day 1 of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1186_ **

**_The air is tense._ **

Claude’s heart aches something fierce as he sees Byleth walk up the steps of the Goddess Tower. They’ve won. They’ve achieved a huge victory through teamwork and friendship and… love.

“Sorry for calling you out here like this. I wanted to talk, just the two of us. First of all, I wanted to say thank you for all your hard work. It seems like our long struggle may finally be coming to an end,” Claude says with a sigh.

“Not quite the end. We still have Fhirdiad. One of those who slither in the dark is still holed up in the royal residence. Nothing like fighting Nemesis, but we can let loose Dimitri’s rage. But after that, it’s a new dawn.”

“The way forward will certainly be rough. Right now, Fódlan is like a newborn. Frail and easily upset. If we don't create a new ruling system soon, the Empire and Kingdom will descend into chaos. The coronation ceremony is the first step. Only then will Fódlan truly be a single, united land. I'm sorry that I won't be by your side at such an important event, but I'm certain you'll do great.”

“You won't be there?!” Byleth asks, panic in his eyes.

“Before we met Nemesis, I got a letter. My father has been killed and I have to go before my half-brother proclaims himself king in my absence. As for ruling this new, unified land... Well, I'll leave that to you.”

“King Khalid,” Byleth says. The two words send a shiver down Claude’s spine.  _ Too soon. _

“It's time for me to struggle all over again and see what good I can do. If I don't change things in both Fódlan and the lands beyond, I'll never set eyes on the kind of world I've dreamed of creating.”

“I can't be a ruler.”

“You're the successor Rhea appointed, aren't you? And now you're also the hero who saved Fódlan. All those weak people who have nothing to cling to but their goddess… They'll rely on you just like they used to rely on Rhea. You'll be a leader all who are struggling to survive in war-torn lands can look up to. And I… I want a ruler who can lay down a new set of values for the people. Values that don't exclude anyone for being different. I know it's a lot to ask. But you're the only one who can do it.”

“Claude, I don’t know what to say. I really don’t. I can’t do this without you.”

“When I first saw you wield the Sword of the Creator, I wanted to use your power to my advantage. I wanted to use you to make my dream of a new world come true. But before long, I realized what I really wanted was to see that new world with you by my side. I still feel that way, you know. I always will. That's why I have to leave. But nothing will stop me from coming back. There's no way I'm gonna let you go. You know that, don't you?”

“I do,” Byleth says, taking one of Claude’s hands.

“Thank you. For everything. I'll be back before you know it. We'll only be apart for a short while…” He can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth as he says, “I love you. With everything I am.”

“I love you too,” Byleth says, allowing Claude to pull him in for a hug. They must have both been waiting for the other one to say it first. Claude’s glad he finally did, even if it was just his mouth and brain betraying him. “I love you so much, Claude.”

“The next time we see each other, it will be at the dawn of a whole new world. A peaceful, happy world.”


	13. Your Sickening Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some letters are exchanged and Claude has a shocking revelation and engages in some self-destructive behavior.

**_Day 8 of the Horsebow Moon, Imperial Year 1186_ **

**_The wind is strong._ **

It’s almost hilarious that his coronation takes place on the Leicester Alliance Founding Day. 

Claude operates almost automatically. He ignores the spit and the slurs and rotten food thrown his way. He’s going to be the king in a matter of moments. He can handle this. He feels stronger, the urge to cry almost gone entirely. 

He only feels safe enough to cry when Byleth holds him close. But Byleth’s not here, he’s in Fódlan. Claude wishes he were here, just so he could see his smile and hear ‘ _ just breathe, it’ll be okay’. _

But he’s not. The closest thing he has is Nader’s hand on his sword, ready to strike if anyone tries anything extraordinarily stupid.

All he needs to get through this is imagining his Teach’s hand on his shoulder, warm and grounding him in reality and making him feel at home.

—

**_Day 11 of the Horsebow Moon, Imperial Year 1186_ **

**_The sky is cloudy._ **

The letter he receives contains a sachet of tea leaves — Leicester Cortania to be specific.

_ Day 8 of the Horsebow Moon. The sun is out, though it is unseasonably cold.  _

_ There is a flurry of activity at the monastery as we prepare to march on Fhirdiad, but I took this day to visit Derdriu for the Alliance Founding. I’m staying at your former home. Raphael tells me this was your writing desk. Odd for me to be writing to you from the place you likely wrote countless letters of your own. _

_ You’ve been gone just a week and I still miss you terribly. I suppose being as close as we have been during the war comes with some adjustment pains as we adapt to life in our new respective roles. _

_ I hope you are being treated well there. I know it has never been a place you considered home. Much like you, I didn’t know a home until my arrival at Garreg Mach. Though thinking about it now, I haven’t felt much at home since you’ve left. Perhaps my home isn’t tied to a geographical location. Perhaps it’s tied to you. _

_ The others miss you. Hilda is taking the holiday to turn public opinions of Almyra into something positive. She and Holst are sharing stories of the heroics of the new Almyran king against Nemesis and the way Nader the Undefeated can drink a good Alliance man under a table. _

_ I miss my father desperately, but this feels different. I feel a gnawing ache where you and I were once connected. It feels as though my ribs have been shattered and my heart has been torn out.  _ _ My _ _ heart, not Sothis’s Crest Stone. I know it doesn’t beat, but it feels. It never used to. Not until I met you. _

_ I watched you die. I was able to use the power Sothis granted me to turn back time, just so I could save all of you. There was a moment when the spectre of Riegan lodged an arrow through your neck. There was a moment where Hilda’s head was cleaved in by Goneril. There were so many instances of our friends falling to the Ten Elites they were descended from, or from any of the mages and mysterious ghosts. Ingrid was crushed under the foot of a demonic beast. Ferdinand was victim to a horrific spell that left him dead on the ground. I think I watched all of my students die at least once. _

_ Because of Thales, I wasn’t able to save my father with the power Sothis gave me. I wasn’t going to let anyone else I care for die, least of all you. You’re my best friend, my first friend, and you always will be. Regardless of how long I live, I will never meet another like you. Nobody will ever make me feel for the first time. Nobody will make me smile the way you do. Nobody will love me the way you do and I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you. My father was the only person I felt safe with for a long time. All that changed when you held me. _

_ Here I am getting nostalgic. I never thought I could ever feel nostalgic, considering I have fragmented memories of my early life. I wish we could go back to the way we were, just the heir to the Alliance and his Teach. It was simpler then. The world wasn’t on our shoulders. We were young and blind to the horrors of war. _

_ If only we could turn back time. _

_ With love and eternally yours, _

_ your Teach _

Claude holds the letter tight, holding it to his chest.  _ Ugh _ , he misses the guy so badly. For someone so devoid of emotions when they first met, he is perhaps one of the most emotional people he knows.

It’s beautiful. Every word written in his looping cursive is almost as beautiful as hearing his voice. His heart is full of love.

—

_ Day 11 of the Horsebow Moon. The sky is dark. _

_ My coronation was on the 8th. You are officially talking to the king of Almyra and also somehow sovereign duke of the Leicester Alliance. Not quite as impressive as talking to the slayer of Nemesis and the dismantler of the borders of Fódlan. _

_ My half-brothers have really judged the fact that I had a letter arrive from Fódlan, but I think it is necessary for us to negotiate a treaty. Honestly, it’s not a real negotiation, is it? You once said you’d do anything I asked you to and that is a street that goes both ways. I’m yours, both my heart and mind. I will do anything to make it so we can achieve our dream of a peaceful world.  _

_ I want to do the negotiating in person. I want to look you in the eyes when we determine the direction we will take to achieve our ambitions of a world without prejudice. I wish the legends were true and you could cleave mountains in half with the Sword of the Creator. That would make things so much easier. _

_ It’s been less than a day since I first received your letter, but I’ve read it what feels like hundreds of times. I miss you. I really do. I spent every waking (and sleeping) hour of my life with you for a year and now I’m in a harsh and unforgiving land where my own citizens hate me. I yearn to have your arms around me again. You are my comfort and the place my heart calls home. _

_ I wish we had had more time with Rhea before she passed. I had so many more questions. I wish she were alive to tell us more, but I think a bit of mystery is fun, no? You have the Crest Stone in your chest, the heart of the progenitor god next to the heart that was born without beating. The goddess is part of you. You can change the world. _

_ My love and warmest regards, _

_ Claude _

—

**_Day 24 of the Horsebow Moon, Imperial Year 1186_ **

**_The air is warm, but the sun is gloomy._ **

“You look sad, my sweet son.”

Claude looks up from the mountain of paperwork on his desk to see that his mother has entered the royal study.

“I guess I am. I’ve been thrown into yet another job I’m unprepared for. Being sovereign duke was nothing compared to being a king. I’m having to stop the fights at the border, deal with my piece of shit siblings trying to usurp me,  _ and _ do normal day-to-day shit.”

“You miss Fódlan, don’t you?” she asks, sitting down in the chair across from him.

“Is it that obvious? I’m miserable here,” he confesses.

“Perhaps you’d feel a bit more at home with some companionship. Your brothers have already begun to form harems. As a king, you were expected to start years ago.”

“I don’t want a wife,  _ mâmân. _ ”

“Well, you cannot have a husband,” she says with a laugh. “Are you holding out for a woman you met in Fódlan? Does she have the bravery to leave her country behind for the man she loves?”

“I have no idea if there’s precedent for that. Whoever could be so bold?” Claude asks, rolling his eyes dramatically. 

“Tell me about her.”

“There’s no woman,  _ mâmân. _ I’m in love with Fódlan itself. Really, Garreg Mach and my class and—” Teach. 

“And that impossible man.”

“That impossible man… He was crowned as leader of Fódlan. He and I are going to negotiate peace.”

“Are you in love with him? Do we have to worry about you failing in negotiations because you look into his eyes and lose all sense of self?”

A pit forms in Claude’s stomach. He  _ does  _ lose his sense of self looking into Byleth’s eyes, but he’s not in love with him.

“We want peace. We want free exchange of people and culture and goods. I want to bust open Fódlan’s Locket and end all of the fighting. That’s all either of us want. I’d do anything for him and he’d do anything for me.”

“Are you in love with him?” she asks again. Claude didn’t realize he’d glossed over that.

“No. I love him, but no. Not that sort of love.” She looks at him skeptically. Now she has him doubting himself. No. He’s not in love. He’d know it if he was, wouldn’t he? “How did you know you were in love with  _ pedar _ ?” he asks cautiously.

“My heart would race whenever I saw him. His voice left butterflies in my stomach. He made me happier than anyone else in the world. He could make me blush and smile with his kind and flattering words. I felt it in my soul that I never wanted to part from him. It’s the reason I left home. Nothing and no one could keep me from my love.”

Claude swallows hard. Oh  _ no _ . No, no, no. That’s his exact experience, but he’s not— He  _ can’t be. _ “I thought that’s how a best friend made you feel because I never had that. But he makes me blush and smile and my stomach fills with butterflies and my heart races and he makes me so happy.  _ So  _ happy. He holds me when I cry and he lets me sleep beside him when I’m anxious. He makes me feel like I can achieve anything. I love him more than anything or anyone. If what you’re saying is true, then yeah, I’m in love with him. Fuck.”

“Oh, Khalid, I am so sorry. You’ll never be able to be with the one you love.”

He puts his head down on his desk and groans in agony. Best to keep this to himself.

“I was serious about finding a wife. This revelation makes it that much more important for you to start building your legacy.”

“My legacy is this. Improving relations with Fódlan and the rest of the world. As for my successor, I don’t want it to be Yousef. I want to enact absolute primogeniture and have Safiya become queen once I am gone.”

“Gone?”

“I eventually want to abdicate and return to the dukedom of Leicester. Once my legacy is secure, I want to leave.”

“To be with him,” she correctly deduces. “How did you not know you were in love?”

“I thought it was normal friend stuff! I’ve never had a friend so I just assumed. Shit. This would ruin everything if he knew. I can’t let him know.”

He feels a panic coming on. The thing he usually uses to calm his panic is Byleth, but he’s panicking  _ about  _ Byleth, so this is—

“Khalid,” his mother says, walking over and leaning against his desk beside him. “Khalid, you must keep your head. You have responsibilities in Almyra and you can’t let your feelings cloud your mind. Stay sharp. You don’t want your brothers to catch you while your thoughts are elsewhere.”

“Yes,  _ mâmân,  _ I know.” He swears in about four different languages before he puts his head up and starts to work on the papers his father let pile up. Too busy being a warrior king to actually govern it seems.

—

He could always order bedwarmers in the palace, but they would all be women, soft curves and gentle smiles and willing to do anything to please the king, but that’s not what he wants. He wants a man, hard and unyielding and anonymous.

Ever since he realized how stupidly in love he is, he’s been thinking way too much and can’t focus on his duties and what he really needs is to have the noise fucked out of his head.

So he dons a hooded cloak and sneaks out a window like he did as a teenager. Nobody needs to know his comings and goings and bailing out a window is the easiest way to get that sort of privacy.

He doesn’t want to go to a classy brothel because they don’t provide the services Claude’s looking for. Their male courtesans don’t deign to sleep with men. They exist purely for the women in the upper echelon of society.

Even the midrange bordellos and slummy whorehouses don’t provide men for men. There’s only one place Claude knows of that will give him what he needs: the bathhouse.

He gets there, rents a room, shoves his clothes into the small wardrobe, and waits. He doesn’t have to wait long before a man enters the room, shutting the door behind him.

The man looks so different to Byleth it’s almost hilarious. He looks a dead ringer for Dedue, just with fewer scars and dark brown eyes. This’ll do nicely.

Tears spring to his eyes as he’s drilled face down into the mattress. This isn’t what he wants, but it’s what he needs, panting and moaning and curling his fingers into the sheets as his hips are gripped hard enough to bruise.

Imagine what the citizens would think if they knew their king did this.


	14. Close Friends or Potential Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almyra offers help in battle and Claude weaves a garland.

_ When the warm winds blow from the sea to the south of Adrestia, residents of Fódlan know that the rainy season is upon them. Before the heavy rains take their toll, the young women hurry to pick the last of the white roses. The ivory buds are woven into garlands and given as gifts to close friends or potential lovers. _

**_Day 4 of Garland Moon, Year 1187_ **

**_The air is humid._ **

They meet on the battlefield, striking down the last of those who slither in the dark. It’s as if they’ve never been apart, moving flawlessly, effortlessly, the Sword of the Creator and Failnaught fighting back the Agarthans.

The enemy is routed and they lower their weapons and turn around to face one another. Claude embraces him, laughing triumphantly.

They’re back. They’re together. Claude has never wanted anything as much as he wanted to see him again.

Byleth looks just as he always does, a flush on his cheeks from the exertion of battle, a smile on his lips at the sight of him. He’s dressed for war, even more understated than normal. He’s beautiful to Claude. He can’t wait to get him alone, to refamiliarize himself everything about his best friend, the man he’s in love with.

This is the first time Claude has seen him since realizing he’s in love. He hopes he doesn’t make things awkward by mistake.

— 

**_Day 5 of Garland Moon, Year 1187_ **

**_The sun is out._ **

They just miss each other in the flurry of activity in Claude’s former home. He takes a deep breath before rapping his knuckles on his grandfather’s former room, the place Raphael informed him is Byleth’s quarters while here from Garreg Mach.

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to imagine what is on the other side of the door.

He doesn’t have to imagine long, finding Byleth on the other side, his cloak discarded on the bed, hair a mess, the slightest hint of pale green five-o’clock shadow starting to emerge on his cheeks and jaw. He’s hard at work and pulling on his hair in frustration. Claude knows it well.

“Can I come in?” Claude manages.

Byleth doesn’t answer verbally, merely stepping out of the way to allow him entrance.

“Y’know, being here with you brings me back to that night of the ball. We made that wish that we’d see our ambitions come to fruition,” Claude remarks.

“We’ve got a ways to go.”

“But we made it this far.”

Once the door clicks closed, Claude envelops his best friend in a big hug.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Byleth says, returning the embrace happily.

It feels as if he’s returned home, Byleth’s arms around him and Byleth in his arms. He loves him so dearly that it hurts to be apart. They’re together now and that’s what matters.

—

**_Day 19 of Garland Moon, Year 1180_ **

**_It is unseasonably rainy._ **

He comes to find Hilda and Marianne in the Golden Deer classroom. He’s helping Leonie search for a lost map, but he becomes distracted by his two classmates.

“What are we doing, ladies?” he asks, sitting on the table opposite them.

“Weaving garlands,” Marianne replies quietly.

“Tradition says we give them to close friends or potential lovers,” Hilda says. “Lorenz wants one to bestow upon some poor noble lady. We’re making ones for almost all of our classmates. Gifts for close friends.”

“We’re making one for the professor. Do you think he’ll like it?” Marianne asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“I think he’ll love it,” Claude declares with a grin.

—

**_Day 10 of Garland Moon, Year 1187_ **

**_The night air has a chill._ **

Claude takes a deep breath in through his nose, a deep breath out through his mouth. He does this several times, but he’s afraid.

He’s asked Byleth to meet him in the Goddess Tower. Where this all began. Where he turned from Claude’s professor into Claude’s friend. Where he shared his dream with someone for the first time.

He stares out at the sun, much like he did the day of what should have been the Millennium Festival. He waits and waits for the leader of Fódlan to ascend those stairs. 

When he finally does, he says, “Pretty rude to keep a fella waiting like that, wouldn't you say?”

He turns around and sees a brilliant smile on his best friend’s face. He feels butterflies in his stomach.

Claude walks over to him, placing his carefully woven garland atop his head.

“Close friends or potential lovers. Hilda and Marianne made one for me years ago,” Byleth recalls fondly. “If you’re right, if all the girls had a crush on me, it could have been either of those.”

Claude laughs.

“Hi,” he says bashfully, looking deep into those ocean-green eyes. 

He’s lost, falling deep into the water, unable to come up for air. He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until he needs to take a gulp of oxygen.

“What’s wrong?” Byleth asks, his brow furrowed in the most adorable way.

“Remember when we found ourselves here the night of the ball?” he asks. 

“Of course. You wished we’d see our ambitions come to fruition.”

“We’ve still got a ways to go,” Claude says, echoing what Byleth said the other night.

“But we made it this far,” Byleth replies, the same words Claude said in response.

They settle into a silence. It’s always comfortable between them.

“You’re my best friend. I love you,” Claude says, knowing that’s as far as he can say.

Byleth nods. “I love you too, Claude. You’re my best friend. My first friend. If I die before you, my last friend.”

Claude snorts in amusement. “Bold of you to assume you  _ can _ die, Mr. Soul-fused-with-the-goddess.”

Byleth looks down at his feet, scuffing the toe of his boot against the ground, chuckling good-naturedly.

“I’m sure you didn’t come here to joke about my possible immortality.”

“I thought you should be the first to know that you’re never getting rid of me.”

Byleth looks up at him, confusion on his face. “You’re not going back to Almyra?”

“Not permanently. Because, fuck, I miss Fódlan. Garreg Mach was the first place I could exist without fear. I miss it. I miss  _ you. _ I miss my best friend. The only thing that gets me through some of the hardest nights was staring up at the Blue Sea Star and imagining you’re looking up too.”

Byleth eyes start to sparkle with tears. “I hoped for the same thing. I hoped you remembered which one was the Blue Sea Star.”

“The brightest in the sky.”

They settle into a silence that ends in a hug.

“I’m abdicating.”

“You’re what?”

“Almyran kings practice polygyny, so I have half-siblings who can take the mantle. They’re not exactly fond of Fódlan because they’ve always beat me up for being a half-breed—”

“Don’t call yourself a half-breed. Be kind to yourself.”

“I know. I shouldn’t use their terminology. Thanks for reminding me of my self-worth.”

“Don’t mention it.”

When they met, he always looked so stoic. Now Claude rarely sees him without a smile. This one is encouraging and it’s adorable. He is so in love and he has no idea how he missed it.

“Anyway, since they’re skeptical of Fódlan, I’m not abdicating to my brothers and I’m not doing it until we have an alliance in place. I think the leader of Fódlan and I can come to an arrangement.”

“Here in the Goddess Tower, anything is possible.”

“Anything?” Claude asks, lifting an eyebrow, coyly grinning.

“Alois had a coin jar that he put a gold piece in every time he had to roust students from becoming amorous in here. Saved enough to buy himself a high-end sword before we went to war.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Sylvain and Felix.”

“No shit.”

“Stolen sacramental wine and an argument led to making out in the Goddess Tower. At least that’s how Sylvain justified it to the professors and Seteth. Felix just grimaced until we let him leave. Obviously upset with his drunk self.”

“Well, drunk words are sober thoughts. I guess in his case it was a drunk  _ action. _ ”

“Do you have experience?”

“Not really. I don’t get drunk around people. Last time I did, someone tried to kill me.”

Claude doesn’t expect the embrace that comes as a reply to that sad statement, but he’s not mad at it. Quite the opposite, really.

He allows himself to be held by the first person to ever truly care about him. The first person to unabashedly love him.

“I love you,” Claude says for the second time that night and he feels Byleth laugh, so he laughs too. “It’s not a laughing matter, Teach!”

“Then why are you?”

“Because you make me happy.”

“You make me happy too.” From being a man with no emotions to being  _ happy _ . He’s come so far in the years they’ve known each other. “I will miss you when you have to leave again,” he adds.

“I’m missing you already and you’ve still got your arms around me. I guess not missing you already, but anticipatory dread at leaving you again. I’m not a king when I’m with you. I feel like I’m just a guy.”

Byleth releases him from the embrace, looking deep into his eyes in lieu of physical touch.

“I don’t know if I felt much of anything before you. I wonder how much of it had to do with you. Seteth’s theory is I operated like a husk until Sothis awakened, but I had those dreams of her and I still operated as an empty shell. It wasn’t until you showed up in Remire Village that I…”

“Could’ve been Garreg Mach or Rhea that flipped that switch.”

“Could’ve. Not sure if I’ll ever know. I think I like the theory that I changed because of the friendship of one dork who can’t throw a snowball.”

Of course he’d remember that. It’s one of Claude’s favorite memories too. Even Edelgard and Dimitri joined in the inter-house snowball fight. Claude sheltered in the greenhouse with Teach and Dedue. They were the ones in there when the fight broke out and Dedue shut the door with a quickness to protect the plants. Of course, that didn’t matter to Hilda and Sylvain. Dedue fixed them with a stern look and Hilda dragged Claude outside and Sylvain grabbed Teach and told Dedue that Dimitri needed his help.

It was nice when that was the only war they’d had to live through, before they were hardened killers.

“In my defense, the only place there’s snow in Almyra is the mountains. I grew up in a desert,” Claude says in his defense. It triggers a bright smile from his friend.

“It was you. I know for certain now. Nobody makes me smile the way you do.” Byleth takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Nothing compares to the way you make me feel.”

“And how is that?”

“Alive. You make me feel alive.”

“I’m in love with you,” Claude blurts out again. “I’m, uh… You don’t have to say anything. I’m sure I just ruined things irreparably. I’m just going to—”

“May I kiss you?”

Claude’s flabber is completely gasted. Did Teach really just ask that? Did Professor Byleth fucking Eisner, Ruler of Dawn and leader of the United Kingdom of Fódlan just ask to  _ kiss him? _

“I, um, yes. Please,” is all he manages.

The smile that spreads across Byleth’s face is everything to Claude. The shy and bashful way he leans in, the way their noses clumsily bump together at first and they share a laugh at their foible, the warmth of Byleth’s breath mingling with his… Those are nothing compared to the delicate brush of Byleth’s lips against his own.

Claude’s sure his heart is going to explode in his chest. He tingles from his head to his feet, he melts as Byleth threads his fingers through his hair.

Claude is pretty sure this is Byleth’s first kiss. Well, his first  _ real  _ kiss, not like those kids who bullied him when he was young.

“My close friend and potential lover,” Claude murmurs, his lips still on Byleth’s. 

He loses himself in the feeling of Byleth’s lips and hands and the heat of his body pressed against him. He loves him, he  _ loves  _ him. He loves him so deep into his bones that he’s not sure anything could separate them.

Claude has never felt so good, so relaxed, so in love, in love at all. He wants more of him, forever and ever.

He doesn’t want to go back to Almyra. He doesn’t want to go  _ anywhere.  _ He wishes they could stay up here in the Goddess Tower forever.

It makes butterflies erupt in his stomach, feeling Byleth’s smile against his lips, struck by how infatuated he is like a bolt of lightning.

He can feel the same infatuation oozing from the man kissing him. Knowing his feelings are reciprocated makes Claude smile like crazy.

Claude realizes he is inadvertently teaching Byleth how to kiss, specifically how  _ he _ likes to be kissed. That’s probably why the kissing is so incredible, why it makes him so weak in the knees. They’re simply savoring one another, kisses gentle and pleasantly warm.

Claude’s never had anything more than a one-night-stand, so this kind of thing is new to him; taking the time to explore and really get to know what the other party reacts to is a novel experience. They’re not rushing to get their rocks off, they’re just feeling out what the other likes.

Claude has accidentally taught Byleth how he likes to be kissed, but now, a good half-hour in, Byleth is discovering how he himself likes to be kissed and makes sure to let Claude know. For instance, Byleth likes it when Claude runs his fingers through his hair, gently caressing his scalp. He likes it when Claude gently nips at his lower lip.

“I’m in love with you too,” Byleth says as if the kisses didn’t say it already.

Everything about this is perfect.

—

**_Day 11 of Garland Moon, Year 1187_ **

**_The stars are twinkling._ **

From the top of the Goddess Tower, they gaze up at the stars. Claude can’t seem to keep to himself, needing to constantly kiss or touch the beautiful man beside him, almost as if to confirm this isn’t a deceptive, hyper-realistic dream.

No, this is the real Byleth and he’s kissing him beneath the Blue Sea Star and they’re in love. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I stay the night with you,” Claude says, tucking a pale green curl behind Byleth’s ear.

“Pardon me for just assuming you would,” Byleth replies. The small, bashful laugh that accompanies is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world.

Claude smiles and he kisses him, just because he  _ can. _ If anything in the world feels right, this is it. He never knew that he could feel that way, he never thought that it existed. The stars and the kiss and being in his best friend’s arms again feels right.

“You make me feel just right,” he murmurs into another slow kiss.

“I know exactly what you mean.”


	15. Celebrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilal has unconditional positive regard for Claude.

**_Day 24 of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1187_ **

**_The air is warm._ **

“Happy birthday!”

Hilda embraces him, leaving kisses all over his face. Leonie rolls her eyes at her former classmate’s antics. 

“Don’t let Holst see this,” Balthus remarks.

“The professor would never do anything as improper as pursuing one of his former students,” Hilda says.

Claude catches Byleth’s eye and it makes the old professor blush something fierce.

“Aw, you guys know how bashful he can be!” Lysithea chides. “Sorry, Professor.”

“No, you’re right. I’d never pursue one of my former students.”

There was no pursuit for them. They just realized that romance had bloomed in their friendship and then acted on those feelings. Nobody chased anyone. There was no impropriety.

“You’re still wearing the bracelet you got for your birthday back in the day,” Raphael notices.

“Oh. It’s almost part of me now,” he replies, looking down at his wrist. Claude’s heart flutters in his chest. “My first class will always have a special place in my heart and receiving a birthday gift from you all is incredibly special.”

“We pitched in for flowers,” Leonie informs him. 

“Claude was the one who went with the bracelet,” Lorenz says. “I thought it a tad gauche, but if  _ you  _ like it—”

Byleth lifts a brow and looks at him. “Are they telling the truth, my friend?”

“Maybe…”

Byleth fondly shakes his head.

“We got you some more flowers. Since, you know, you always send everyone fancy bouquets for their birthday, even now that most of them have left the monastery,” Mercedes says brightly.

“Captain Jeralt once told me your mother’s favorite flowers were valerians. Claude somehow knew too,” Leonie says, tilting her head curiously.

“I let him read my dad’s diary when we were trying to figure out who I am. Many, many years ago,” Byleth says. He clears his throat. “‘Day 5 of the Garland Moon. I picked some flowers for her and returned home.’”

Claude remembers. “‘The look of joy on her face at the sight of these valerians will be even more beautiful than the flowers themselves,’” he completes. This was the entry he was reading right before he fell apart in Claude’s arms. That was back when he was Teach, a broken and sad man of mystery.

Everyone looks stunned. 

“Who knew that rugged exterior hid a true romantic?” Yuri remarks.

“I didn’t until he was gone,” Byleth admits. “But, uh, let’s not dwell on sad topics. That’s not what you guys came here for. It’s my birthday.”

The guilt at his father’s death probably brings guilt at his mother’s as well. She died 27 years ago today.

It’s a party and they’re determined to keep him upbeat.

—

“Finally alone,” Claude says once they’ve stepped away from the party, alone on the balcony overlooking the pond.

“Finally alone,” Byleth echoes.

“I have something to ask.”

Byleth looks at him, love in his eyes. “Anything. Say the word.”

“I hope you'll accept this.” 

Yet another piece of jewelry as a birthday gift. It’s a ring. He presents Byleth with a ring. An emerald stone that once belonged to his mother, a gift from his father on the anniversary of their wedding. Not that _they_ could be married. No, that’s illegal pretty much everywhere except Brigid and sacreligious in the eyes of the goddess and the Almyran gods, though maybe Sothis has an exception for Byleth. She _does_ live inside him, after all.

“You are my first, last, and only love. No matter what, you will always be the man I… I wish so desperately that I could get down on one knee and ask you to marry me, but this is the closest I think we can get. I know this is moving a little fast. We kissed and couldn’t even exchange love letters because of who we are, but you’re all I think about, Byleth.”

Byleth kisses him sweetly. “My father gave me my mother’s ring and said he hoped I’d give it to someone I love as well as he loved her. That’s you.” With the hand that isn’t touching Claude, he puts his hand beneath his cloak into his chest pocket and produces a beautiful ring.

“So I’m not misreading things?”

“I love you so much it hurts,” Byleth says, pressing the ring against Claude’s chest. “Nobody will ever know how deeply I adore you.”

“I suppose love letters will be acceptable once we’re not the leaders of two nations with a contentious history. Love letters won’t have to travel that far between Garreg Mach and Derdriu. And nothing can be said if I pop by for a quick visit. Hilal and I kind of had to sneak out to be here tonight.”

“Have I made it worth your while?” 

“Absolutely,” Claude decides. “I cannot wait until I’m back in Fódlan for good.”

“I cannot wait either. I miss you when you’re east.”

Claude takes a step forward, hand resting on the side of Byleth’s cheek, about to go in for a kiss, but the door opens and he takes four steps back.

“There’s the birthday boy!” a tipsy Hilda exclaims. “And King Khalid-slash-Duke Riegan. Are you two…”

“Treaty negotiations,” Byleth lies smoothly. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to sign anything while everyone is drunk.”

“Stop talking business! Party!” Marianne calls, drunk and completely uncharacteristic of the girl they met at the Academy. Hilda sure knows how to bring out the wild side of a person.

“I’m getting that kiss later,” Claude says in a voice quiet enough that the others don’t hear him.

“More than one if I had to guess,” Byleth replies, equally quiet, grinning and patting Claude on the chest. “ _ Asheghetam _ , King Khalid.”

Claude can’t help but grin back. He learned how to say ‘I’m in love with you’ in Almyran just for him.

—

**_Day 25 of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1187_ **

**_The party has died down._ **

“I should go before the sun rises back home,” Claude says with a sigh. He doesn’t want to go. “I love you, Teach.”

“I love you too,” Byleth responds, leaning in for a kiss and Claude returns it happily. Hilal noses her way between the two of them, breaking them up. 

“She wants kisses too,” Claude tells Byleth before leaving a smooch on his wyvern’s scaly head. She purrs and nuzzles Claude before tipping her head toward Byleth. He looks like a deer frozen in shock. “Kiss her.”

And instead of fleeing in terror, Byleth gives the big beast a kiss. She purrs and nuzzles him too and, to his credit, Byleth only shakes in fear a  _ little _ .

“C’mon, you have to get used to her,” Claude teases, poking his lover in the belly. “How are you going to go to Almyra and meet my mom if you’re scared of the sweetest wyvern in the world?”

Hilal looks at him with sad, pleading eyes and Byleth visibly softens. “She’s the sweetest?”

“Haven’t you noticed she’s so much better than the others? Hilda’s wyvern is always screeching and Petra’s kept trying to mate with Cyril’s and they’re both female.”

“Considering she and Dorothea are engaged to be married, that’s really not surprising,” Byleth jokes.

“Hey, we could go to Brigid and get married,” Claude proposes, slipping his fingers into Byleth’s pale green hair. “Nobody would have to know but us. And maybe Petra and Dorothea. I just want to be with you. I want to be your husband.”

“Perhaps, once you return to Derdriu, we can make a state visit. First, however, I must make a state visit to Almyra and meet with their king to finally sign the damn treaty after months and months of negotiation.”

“I’ll have my people contact your people,” Claude teases, pressing a kiss to his lover’s lips. “Now I really have to go. Say goodbye to Hilal.”

“Goodbye, Hilal,” Byleth says with a resigned smile. He even pats her on the snout. “I think we have to become good friends to please your master.” Hilal purrs and nuzzles him again and Byleth actually giggles. 

His boyfriend and his wyvern — his two favorite creatures in the world.

—

The sun is just rising as Hilal lands in the stables. 

“I know Byleth is going to love you someday,” Claude assures her. “He loves me, so he’s gonna learn to love you too.”

Hilal looks at him expectantly until he scratches her head and feeds her some treats.

“It’s kind of cute how afraid he is though. I thought he was going to run screaming when I told him to kiss you. You’re just a big softie though. He’s got nothing to fear, huh?”

He chatters to her as he takes off her saddle and gives her a few more treats for good measure. He loves Hilal so much. His mother noticed as much when he first arrived back in Almyra and decided she was thriving under Claude and she would get herself a new wyvern. Honestly, Claude trusts her more than anyone else in Almyra.

“You know what, Hilal? I never asked him when he knew he was in love with me. Hm. I should ask next time I see him. I wonder if he took as long as I did to realize it. Maybe he knew all along. Did I figure it out after someone so emotionally oblivious?”

He swears he can see Hilal shrug. She’s such a good confidant. She listens nonjudgmentally and won’t tell a soul about what he says. It helps that he loves her unconditionally too. She’s a good friend. Not his best friend because nobody could ever unseat Teach from that position.


	16. The Predatory Wyvern of Almyra Is Out to Get Us!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth makes a state visit to Almyra. Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for homophobic language

**_Day 22 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1187_ **

**_The desert air is cool._ **

Claude had imagined what Byleth might look like in Almyra hundreds of times, but it never came close to what he  _ actually  _ looks like. He stands out, a shock of pale skin amid a sea of deeper tones and all black heavy clothing opposed to the airy and colorful garb of the citizens. Mostly it’s the hair. Sure Almyrans have hair in blonde, red, black, brown, but none are seafoam green. No, this is a man out of place in the capital city.

He’s lucky to have Nader escorting him, lest he be subjected to torment by the xenophobic masses. He’s flanked by Nader and Raphael, both ready to protect him, Cyril bringing up the rear. Claude wonders how Byleth convinced Alois to stay behind. Catherine was probably difficult to convince as well. Shamir probably offered to stay behind and Catherine followed her partner’s lead.

Claude can’t help the smile that adorns his face as his best friend and boyfriend walks up the steps to the palace. He’s so beautiful and Claude has missed him in the month since they last saw one another.

Claude had Sitri’s ring sewn into a bracelet he wears every day. It reminds him of the man he has waiting for him on the other side of the mountains. The man he sees now. The man who shakes his hand in public and gives him a polite smile.

“They don’t even make you dress up like Rhea for special events, eh?” Claude asks quietly, a real smile hitting his lips for the first time since they parted.

“Nader tells me I’ll be dressed up in Almyran fashion for the dinner tonight.”

“Ah yes. The sirwal, the least supportive style of pants I’ve ever worn.” The handshake ends and Claude gestures to his mother. “Byleth Eisner, Ruler of Dawn, this is Queen Mother Tiana.” Byleth hates being called a king, so that’s not how Claude’s going to title him.

Byleth smiles and Claude smiles back, so happy to see his mother finally meeting the man he loves. Byleth bows and kisses the back of her hand. “Your son’s descriptions do no justice to your beauty, Your Grace.”

As much as he’d like to roll his eyes, King Khalid has to be polite to this fool in public. He can tease him as much as he likes behind closed doors, though they’ll probably be too busy cuddling and making out to do much of that.

“You’re too kind, er… What shall I call you?”

“Byleth is fine. I think the only title I’m comfortable with is Professor, though I won’t be one for that much longer.” He must be stepping back to focus on governing.

“Oh, does Khalid call you Professor still?”

“Well, he’s called me Byleth since we became friends. Well, at least more than just a professor and student are friendly. Before then, he always called me Teach. Still does on occasion when he’s teasing me.”

“I shall scold you about that later, Khalid,” his mother says, betraying nothing to the crowds gathered by the palace.

She definitely is, but Claude can’t roll his eyes at that either.

“Queen Mother, these are my sworn knights: Raphael Kirsten of the Leicester Alliance and Cyril of Almyra.”

“An Almyran Knight of Seiros? I’d love to hear the story behind that,” she says. “Khalid, you didn’t tell me about all of your interesting friends.”

“ _ Mâmân _ , not now.”

Byleth smiles again. Claude remembers being in that position while Jeralt and Byleth spoke. Fuck, he didn’t even  _ know  _ Jeralt that well, but he misses him. He wishes Jeralt could meet his  _ mâmân. _ They’re basically in-laws.

“Come, come, let’s get you dolled up for the gala tonight.”

“ _ Gala? _ I heard it was a dinner,” Byleth says, completely blindsided.  _ Nader… _

“Is there anywhere to eat? I haven’t eaten since we were at Holst’s.”

“Soon, Raph,” Cyril counsels. Cyril’s friendly enough to call him Raph? Wow, Claude’s missed a lot, but mostly he’s missed Byleth.

—

“How long did it take to convince them that I should stay with you?” Byleth asks as Claude weaves rings and jewels into his green hair.

“Well, it’s a survival tactic. You’re kind of hated here and Raphael and Cyril can’t be on alert 24/7. My chambers are basically the only place you’ll be one-hundred-percent safe. They’ve even put a luxurious cot in my room. Not like that’ll get any use.”

“Glad to know I’m unwelcome.”

“Under my roof, you’re always welcome,” Claude tells him. “You’ve sort of already claimed my chambers in Derdriu.”

“Only until you’re back and only when I’m staying there.”

“Oh, believe me, the fact that I’m back will change absolutely nothing. I expect you in my bed any time you’re in Derdriu.”

A laugh ripples through Byleth and Claude chuckles back, sitting beside his best friend having finished with his hair.

“I love you, Teach,” Claude tells him, resting his forehead on Byleth’s. “You are the love of my life and I would die for you. It’s important to me that you know that.”

“I feel exactly the same, Claude. You are the most precious thing in the world to me. I love you.”

They share a kiss. Claude has to course correct his hand because he very nearly rips out the jewelry he so delicately wove into those minty locks. Instead of tangling in his hair, his hand grips the back of Byleth’s neck, pulling him in for a firm and deep kiss.

He’s missed this. He’s missed the feeling of Byleth’s lips on his, his kisses like none Claude’s had before. He’s missed the feeling of Byleth’s strong hands on him, all grounding and warm. He’s just missed his Teach so much.

“Can’t let ourselves get distracted. Big night tonight,” Byleth says, turning his head to the side to get out of the kiss.

Distraction would be bad indeed.

—

“Introducing King Khalid and his honored guest, King Byleth of Fódlan.”

Byleth winces at being called a king. Claude feels badly. He really does hate it. He thinks of himself as a mediator between Dimitri, Ferdinand, Judith, Lorenz, and other nobles representing their people, not a king. He doesn’t consider his citizens his subjects. They’re not expected to bow to him the way Almyrans are expected to bow before the royal family.

“Big smiles, deep breaths,” Claude counsels before they have to walk out to face the people.

Honestly, once they get into the swing of things, it goes really well. Plenty of people want to talk to Byleth, probably just to talk shit about him behind his back later, but some people are genuine in their curiosity.

One of those people is the sibling closest in age to Claude, the sister who was torn away from him — Safiya.

“Claude has told me a lot about you. You played board games and read books together when you were young. He loves books and board games to this day.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Interesting you call him Claude,” she says with a soft smirk. Oh. Oops.

“It’s his official name in Fódlan. Claude von Riegan, sovereign duke of the Leicester Alliance,” Byleth explains, panic in his eyes as he seems to have made a grave error. Oh, how Claude wishes he could take his hand or kiss his cheek or do  _ something  _ to quell that anxiety. 

“That’s me,” he says in a lame attempt at calming his friend.

“He has plenty of nicknames, though. Claudester is what his classmate Hapi calls him. His classmate Hilda has called him Mr. Leader Man since the death of his maternal grandfather. The Master Tactician got thrown around a lot during the war on all sides. Some of the Leicester nobles call him the King of Unification seeing as he’s a king and broke down borders.”

“Much like this gala is meant to be a breaking down of borders between Almyra and Fódlan. A union between two kings…” Safiya remarks.

“Oh, I’m not a king,” Byleth says instinctively.

“The herald proclaimed you to be.”

“We abolished monarchies, but apparently everyone wants to call me a king. Even in Fódlan, it’s constant and I hate it.”

“Just a warning, our brothers are calling you Khalid’s queen.”

Byleth’s kohl-rimmed blue-green eyes go wide. “What? Why? Wh—”

“He’s yet to take a wife, but is constantly receiving letters from the leader of Fódlan. He’s in love with your nation and you’re the leader of the nation, thus…”

“Yousef and Sina told all of you why I was sent to Fódlan in the first place, didn’t they?” Claude asks, a pit forming in his stomach.

Safiya nods and Claude feels his heart about to launch itself out of his throat. His entire family knows he’s torn in two directions in the most intimate of regards.

“That’s not… He used to be my teacher,” Claude says frantically. “It’s not… I just feel more at home there, that’s it. It’s where I made friends who didn’t care that I was different. Sure, my family hated me there too, but I had friends who felt like family, who  _ still  _ feel more like family than you guys ever did, except for you before your  _ mâdar  _ decided I wasn’t good enough for you to spend time with.”

Safiya’s face is sympathetic. “Khalid, I thought you should know. I’m so sorry. Just be warned, several of the dowager queens and aunties and uncles will be dangling available nieces and sisters and cousins as bait for you. You’ll have to start your harem before long.”

That stings. Byleth is entirely unaffected. He was more expressive when he accidentally called him Claude than at the idea that his lover will have to marry multiple wives.

“You should mingle and meet some of them. Byleth, would you like to dance with me?”

“Yes, Princess, I would,” he agrees, shooting Claude an apologetic look as he leaves him behind.

Claude has complete faith that Safiya will watch out for Byleth and make sure he doesn’t get murdered or poisoned.

He wanted this to be a fun night of introducing his friend to his country, not a night of women being thrown at him.

“Khalid, my love!” Shirin, Yousef and Zarina’s mother, exclaims upon seeing him. A girl that can’t be any older than 16 stands beside her. “My darling  _ nâpesari _ , how good it is to see you. How nice that your friend from Fódlan came here.”

“Yes, it is very nice. He’s been quite busy trying to restructure the entire government and—”

“Yes, yes, very important work. Khalid, this is my niece Sareh. Sareh, say hello.”

“Hello, Your Grace,” she says with a curtsey. 

She’s so _young_. Even if he weren’t in a deep and committed relationship already, this is _not_ someone he’d give any consideration into marrying. She’s younger than he was when he was at the academy. Anyone Claude’s age who _would_ marry her is definitely a predatory jerk. He could see Sina marrying her. She probably will end up marrying him in the end. He feels badly for her, but makes polite conversation until he’s called away by another of his father’s queens.

This is going to be a long night.

—

Claude makes the world’s worst excuse to get away from a queen and her cousin when he sees Yousef and Sina approach Byleth and Safiya.

He, unfortunately, gets caught in a conversation with a different queen and doesn’t make it before a punch is thrown.

A commotion breaks out around them and Claude takes the opportunity to slip away and finds Sina at the end of Cyril’s axe, Yousef at the end of Nader’s sword, and Raphael and Safiya tending to a bloody nose and a heavily bleeding notch where the setting of a ring took a chunk of Byleth’s skin.

“What the fuck did you just do?” Claude demands, loud enough that  _ everyone  _ can hear. “Did you raise a hand to a guest of the crown? Which one of you did it?”

“It was Yousef,” Safiya says, calm despite the fear in her eyes.

Claude grabs the axe from Cyril and grabs Yousef’s dominant hand, forcing his forearm down to a nearby table. “You have ten seconds to explain yourself or it’s coming off.”

“I told him that you’re a queer and you just want to fuck him, not sign a treaty, and he didn’t take the bait to hit me and ruin it all.  _ Barâdar _ , I swear, it was just—”

The sentence is cut off as Yousef’s hand is: with a scream. His sword hand is completely separate from the rest of him. He’s no longer Claude’s heir. Anyone unfit to handle a weapon cannot be king.

Claude tosses Cyril’s axe onto the table. “Feed it to his wyvern,” he says quietly before pushing through throngs of onlookers to leave.

It was a mistake to draw attention to them like that. Now  _ everyone  _ knows, not just his siblings. He just lost the respect of every man, woman, and child in there, just as if  _ he _ lost his sword hand.

Byleth can’t come running to him, not after that whole ordeal, so it’s a surprise that anyone comes at all. If not Byleth, it would either be Safiya or his mother. It’s his mother.

She puts her arm around him and kisses his temple. “I’m sorry I let the influence of your father disrupt the love I feel for you, my sweet son. That’s not the way it would be in Fódlan.”

“I don’t know about that. Your dad hated me. He probably rolls in his grave every time I nock an arrow with Failnaught. He treated me the same as my brothers.”

“I cannot believe you took Yousef’s hand. Your father did the same to many, but never a member of the family.”

“Yousef hit me plenty of times with it, but never did anything so extraordinarily stupid as punching an honored guest at a gala. He deserved it. I hope his wyvern gets a taste of him and eats him.”

His mother giggles and Claude feels happy _. _ Despite just being outed and his lover being sucker punched, he feels happy to be in his mother’s arms for the first time since he was a sick kid. He feels loved by someone other than Byleth for the first time.

—

**_Day 23 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1187_ **

**_Midnight is sweltering._ **

“Why did you do that?” Byleth asks as he starts taking off jewelry from his fingers and wrists. “It made me look like I can’t handle myself. It makes people from Fódlan look like the cowards they think we are.”

“He deserved it. I don’t like that he laid a hand on you,” Claude says, sliding an arm around Byleth’s waist from behind. He kisses the side of his pale neck. “I’ve found I’m a little defensive.” He nips at Byleth’s earlobe before moving to his jaw.

“A  _ little?  _ You took your brother’s hand off and fed it to his wyvern,” Byleth says, turning around in Claude’s arms to face him. He kisses him, wary of his bruised nose. “How do I save face from having to have someone fight my battle?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to save my own face. They all  _ know _ . They know I’m… It’s not just my siblings that Yousef and Sina told. The entire kingdom knows I’m a queer and think we’ve been fucking.”

“That’s just speculation. Yousef’s words to me were: ‘Do you know he’s a queer? He’d rather fuck you than negotiate a treaty.’ And I didn’t take the bait. I said that was doubtful, Sina said you let the stable boy fuck you so why  _ wouldn’t  _ you take it from a king?”

“And you said you’re not a king,” Claude guesses with a frown.

“No, I doubled down on denial. Said I was your former professor, that that is improper.”

Oh. He put protecting Claude ahead of his own discomfort at being called something he’s not. Turns out Byleth is just as protective, though not going as far as chopping a hand off. He wonders if part of Byleth believes it truly is improper. “You didn’t take the bait to hit them and Yousef hit you.”

“Hard enough to knock me over,” he says. Protective enough to take a punch though.

“They’re right though. I did let the stable boy fuck me and I’ve fallen stupidly in love with you.”

“But do you want us to fuck more than you want to sign a treaty?” Byleth asks teasingly.

“I’ve had the dream of unification for a lot longer than I’ve been in love with you,” he admits. Maybe that’s a bit shitty thing to say, but it’s the truth. As much as he loves him, as much as he feels like half a man without him, breaking down walls and cutting mountains in half is his calling in life.

“I never had ambitions before you. My ambitions are the same as yours,” Byleth tells him. “I understand why you need the treaty so badly." 

Byleth takes Claude’s hand and leads him to bed. He gestures for Claude to put his head in his lap. Byleth unbraids his hair, collecting the jewelry into a small pile. 

Claude likes the feeling of fingers in his hair. His mother always used to massage his scalp as she braided his hair as a small child. Then he was acknowledged as heir and he didn’t get the allowances he got before. He had to distance himself from his mother because it was improper to be so “coddled.” It really wasn’t until after he died that Claude realized that he sort of hated his dad. He thought things were unfair before, sure, but looking back at everything he did made him so  _ angry. _ Angry enough that he spent enough time mopping things up with Nemesis to miss the funeral.

“You’re in thought,” Byleth accuses, practically reading his mind and caressing his scalp.

“Have I ever told you how perfect you are?” 

“I’m far from perfect, Claude.”

“You’re perfect to me. Every part of you is something I love. Goddess, I love you.” He clears his throat to force away some of the tears that are forming in his eyes. “In Almyra, people are viewed as a strand of pearls. You’re born, you get a pearl. You are named, you get a pearl. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to put two things in the same spot on a strand, but it’s impossible. I got really sick as a kid and it was postulated that it was because I had two pearls trying to occupy the same spot: am I from Fódlan or Almyra? So my father did something to officially name me as his heir over my brother. He gave me a wyvern egg and claimed me for Almyra. Then he found out that I’m attracted to both men and women. Two pearls vying for the same place. He sent me to Fódlan to figure out which one goes on the strand. Seems like I’ve chosen, haven’t I?”

“No, that’s not it at all. You don’t have anything at war within you. A pearl can carry the same… You’re a native Almyran. You have Fódlan ancestry. You’re attracted to men and women. There’s no battling it out between being attracted to either men  _ or _ women. It’s one thing and being in love with a man doesn’t nullify what you are. Being Almyran doesn’t nullify the Riegan blood in your veins.”

Teach sounds upset on Claude’s behalf. He’s right, but Claude has never heard it verbalized before. Both parts of him can be on a single pearl. He doesn’t have to fight it, does he? Conceal some of it, yes, but there’s no battle. He’s one thing, one man. Byleth’s words end the war in his heart.

“I love you. Fuck, you are the greatest man I know,” Claude says, tears coming up. “You always know exactly what to say. Crazy to think you rarely said anything when we first met.”

“I opened up because of you.”

“I used to plan our conversations. Master Tactician style. You rarely spoke so I planned around the possibilities you might say. I was so concerned with unraveling your mysteries that it wasn’t genuine most of the time. Only when you did something unexpected, like inviting me for tea.”

“Is this genuine or are you trying to unravel my mysteries?” Byleth asks, a tinge of fear creeping into his voice as his fingers stop moving against Claude’s scalp.

“Believe me, there is nothing more genuine about me than my love for you. I can be myself with you and you alone,” he says as he sits up. He leans in to kiss his lover. “Meeting you was life-changing, a pearl on my strand. Then I realized you were my first love and that was added. Then I realized I’m  _ in  _ love with you and we kissed and… Well, most of the pearls on my strand include you. I’m forever yours.”

“And I’m forever yours.”

—

Claude wakes up to find his bed dreadfully empty. One eye still shut, he spies a beautiful man looking out his window and eating an apple in a dressing gown over sleep pants. Claude’s favorite, actually. Emerald green that surprisingly doesn’t clash with Byleth’s hair.

“Morning,” he manages, still feeling exhausted. “I’m so sleepy.”

“You might want to get up. The girl yesterday said she was bringing a bath at 8. It’s almost 8. Do you typically do your morning meditation before or after?”

Claude sits up and sees that things have been tidied up. The jewelry is all collected in a bowl on the vanity. Clothes that were casually cast aside as they got ready for bed are picked up. The cot looks slept in, like it would be if they weren’t the type of friends that have cuddled for years. The attention to detail is superb. 

Claude chuckles and walks over to the window to sit beside Byleth. His lips ghost over his lover’s as he says, “You’re—”

The rest of his sentence is cut off by a knock on the door.

Claude gets up to answer the door and in comes a servant with buckets of hot water and another to retrieve bedsheets and the clothes from the gala.

The servants leave them to it, the warm water smelling of floral perfumed oils, the soaps matching the scent. 

Somehow the most intimate thing they've ever done is washing each other’s hair. The feeling of Byleth’s soapy hands in his hair feels inexplicably comforting.

—

They are locked in negotiations all day and it’s not even fun. It’s a lot of arguing between Byleth and Almyran nobles and Claude having to mediate so punches don’t get thrown again. Byleth is calm through it all, despite the raised voices and anger coming from the other side. Oh, how Claude wishes they could hold hands and face this together. Instead he has to try to fit in actual negotiation between the objections of nobility.

“It’s a fucking peace treaty!” Claude ultimately exclaims in frustration.

“It’s a declaration of war on our way of life!” one protests.

“We can’t have peace with that kind of people!” says another.

“What kind of people, may I ask?” Byleth inquires, steepling his fingers and leaning forward.

“People like you.”

“Master Vashti, there are none like me, I assure you.” A small smirk forms on Claude’s lips. He’s not lying. “We broke down borders in Fódlan, we can do it again, with or without your consent,” he adds.

“Do you intend to swear fealty to this man, Your Majesty? Get down on your knees for him in more ways than one?” Master Gül asks.

Byleth gives Claude an almost imperceptible look of sympathy.

“It’d be embarrassing for you to lose a hand for repeating the gossip of someone fueled by jealousy, wouldn’t it?”

“I didn’t realize his foolish words were the result of jealousy,” Byleth remarks, knowing full well that that was part of it.

“My darling half-brother was meant to be my father’s heir before I was bestowed a wyvern egg. He’s been angry about that since we were just children. Now that he’s so generously removed himself as a potential ruler, hopefully the cowardly attempts he’s made on my life over the years will cease.”

“He thought he had it sewn up when you left for Fódlan,” Byleth deduces. “He never planned for you to return.”

“He was planning his coronation when I got back. He’s shameless.”

“I would hope that losing a hand would shame him the slightest bit.”

Claude smiles. “Careening back to my initial point, no, I’m not swearing fealty to anyone. I just want the fighting to stop.”

“Luckily we know the duke of the Alliance will be in support. Correct, Duke Riegan?”

“Correct. Duke Riegan and King Khalid want their people to stop fighting one another. I don’t want another Fódlan or Almyran casualty in this endless, pointless war.”

“And this Ruler of Dawn?” Master Vashti asks, looking toward Byleth.

“I am not going to accept anything less. You people are asking your citizens to throw their lives away in the hopes of something that will never come to pass. Fódlan is more united than ever now and, even having lost so many in our own wars, we can still crush you if that’s what you desire. It’s not what  _ I  _ desire and it’s not what Khalid desires either.”

“You think you could crush us?” Master Baback asks. “Fódlan is full of cowards.”

“I’d like you to tell that to my students who had to fight their friends to the death to bring about a new dawn. I’d like you to tell that to my students who fought off the specters of their ancestors to save the world from the risen Fell King of Liberation. Don’t you dare tell me people from Fódlan are cowards because they are the furthest thing from it. Even my student Marianne who was terrified of everything, everyone, and  _ herself _ put her fear aside to fight for what she knew was right. Don’t you fucking dare tell me my people are cowards _. _ ”

Holy. Shit. That’s the angriest he’s ever heard Teach. Even after Edelgard’s betrayal, he didn’t get angry per se, but apparently calling his students cowards hit a berserk button for him.

“Your way of life orphaned my knight Cyril here. Your way of life orphaned thousands and thousands of kids, Almyran and Fódlan alike, none of whom were as lucky as Cyril to find a family. It cannot go on. This is why Khalid and I are looking to repair the relationship between our two kingdoms.”

Things relax from there and the council is more willing to cooperate now that Byleth has displayed strength of will. He’s earned their respect.

— 

As soon as Byleth hands over the Sword of the Creator, the glow leaves. Instead he picks up the training sword set out for him, giving it a nice flourish before stepping into the middle of the training area.

Sina was the one who threw down the gauntlet and the council is excited to see the freshly minted heir fight the Fódlan king.

Byleth is a master swordsman. Claude has seen him in battle enough times to know he’s going to win this. He’s war-hardened and Sina has never even left the capital.

Byleth at least makes it interesting. He lets Sina get a few blows in at the beginning before absolutely owning him. Claude never took Byleth for a hustler, but he’s definitely hustling him just to slam him to the ground after.

Sina has gained confidence, landing a few blows, but then Byleth tumbles out of the way. “Predictable.” Another miss. “Watch and learn.” A flurry of blows and Sina is on his back, Byleth’s dulled blade at his throat. “Do you yield?”

“Yes,” Sina gasps.

“Don’t feel ashamed. Each battle is a chance to grow.”

Of course the kindness of the victor is a shame in and of itself. The council whispers amongst themselves.

“Let’s see who wins when Raphael and Cyril go for a round,” Byleth says, depositing himself on the pillow next to Claude.

Claude gives him a sly smile. He just eliminated Sina as a potential heir.

—

“Let’s go to the night market. It’ll be a date. We can sneak out, no guards, totally anonymous. You can just be my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Byleth asks, shucking off his cloak. “Aren’t I far more than that?”

Claude slides his arm around his partner’s waist. “A  _ lot  _ more. So much more.”

“I doubt I can be anonymous. The hair is a dead giveaway as to who I am,” Byleth points out.

Claude crumples. That’s true. Claude’s paler than most and Byleth is even paler than that with a shock of green hair. They’re going to stick out like a pair of sore thumbs.

“Raph and Cyril can come with us. They’re good friends, but they’re also my guards here. We can’t exactly be  _ boyfriends _ in front of them, but we can be a quartet of friends experiencing Almyran nightlife.”

Claude grins. “Fine. It’s not a date anymore, but I’ll show you that food in my hometown I promised you years ago.”

—

“This is my first time in the capital,” Cyril says in between bites of  _ gosh-e fil _ . “It’s nice.”

Raphael is too busy stuffing his face to comment. The night market has some of the best food Almyra has to offer. Street food is better than the stuffy fare they served at the gala. It all tastes good, but the atmosphere adds to the experience.

“I was surprised you volunteered to come to Almyra. You’ve never wanted to even talk about it,” Byleth comments.

“I wanted to see Claude again,” Cyril replies with a shrug. “You look happy here.”

“I wasn’t happy until my friends came back to see me,” Claude admits, putting his hand on Byleth’s knee under the table. “Tell me more about what’s happening at Garreg Mach.”

“Dimitri has appointed Ashe as head of House Gaspard and he and Hapi are getting married,” Raphael says, taking a breather from shoveling food into his mouth to talk.

“Oh, wow. Guess we’re about the age where marriage is on the table.”

“Ferdinand proposed to Marianne,” Byleth informs him. They’ve been too busy with negotiations and kissing to really talk about what’s been going on in their friends’ lives, so this is a nice chance to catch up. “Hilda is opening an artisan school in Goneril territory. It’s going to be her legacy. We’ve all got a legacy to build and leave behind when we go, don’t we?”

“I hope my legacy is a good one,” Cyril says brightly. “Lysithea, Linhardt, and Hanneman are trying to find a way to remove her Crests so we can get married.”

Claude’s heart flutters. Cyril and Lysithea… “What about you, Raphael? Any news on the horizon?”

“This is my last hurrah with the professor. I’m going to Galatea territory. Ingrid is the only one who eats as much as me.”

Claude smiles. “Are you going to ask for her hand in marriage?”

“Marriage? No. I want to cook together!”

“A bunch of people want to marry the professor, but he turns them all down,” Cyril says. “Linhardt thinks he’s waiting for someone specific.” Butterflies erupt in Claude’s stomach. “Hanneman thinks it’s Dorothea, but she’s married to Petra.”

“I think it’s Hilda, but Marianne insists he’d never go for a former student,” Raphael tells him. That makes Claude’s stomach butterflies die. Byleth puts his hand atop the one Claude has resting on his knee so he can’t pull it away.

“What makes her say that?” Byleth asks. “I could very well be holding out for someone.”

“Lysithea thinks it’s Yuri, but they can’t exactly get married or even be together. It’s probably why the professor is so sad all the time,” Cyril says, giving a sympathetic look to the Ruler of Dawn.

“It’s not any of those people. I’m not holding out for someone specific. It’s just… I’m afraid. If the goddess’s Crest Stone is in my chest, then I likely can’t die. I’m afraid of falling in love and watching that person die. How can you go on living if the love of your life is gone? What is the point?”

He’s never told Claude about these fears. They’ve made light of the fact that he likely will live forever in the past, but he’s never verbalized the fear to Claude. He’s probably afraid of that too.

One second, Claude is looking down at his food and the next, the Sword of the Creator is deflecting an arrow aimed at Byleth’s heart. He must’ve rewound time to protect himself.

And to think Claude almost left Failnaught at home.

—

**_Day 24 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1187_ **

**_It’s warm._ **

“Hey, you okay?” 

Byleth nods. “Just a little rattled, that’s all,” he replies. “I’ve had people try to kill me before, but never an attempted assassination.”

“Well, let’s hope this is your one and only,” Claude says, sitting beside him and taking his hand. “Pretty sure I know who did this. Yousef and Sina will regret this.”

“Don’t. We just need to sign this treaty so I can go home and visit my dad on the anniversary of his death.”

Claude glances toward the door before bringing their lips together. “We should really talk about this. We should talk about a lot of things.”

Byleth pushes Claude’s shoulder back the slightest bit, just enough to give a distance of plausible deniability. “What do we need to talk about?” 

“You’re afraid to watch me die.”

“I am, which is why I want to be with you as much as possible.”

“I’m sure we could find a way to… Maybe Seteth knows something. I want nothing more than to be with you for as long as I possibly can.”

“Oh, Claude,” Byleth says softly, resting his hand on the side of his face. Claude leans in to the touch. His deep oceanic eyes stare into Claude’s own and he finds himself starting to drown in them. He has to kiss him. He  _ does  _ kiss him.

There’s nothing like warm lips against his, a smooth tongue meeting with his own, his jaw cradled by a sword-callused hand. His eyes slip closed, letting his intuition lead them.

—

Claude’s been dressed by the best clothier in the city for this ceremonial signing of the treaty between Fódlan and Almyra. Teach, on the other hand, is just wearing his mercenary blacks like he has the entire time Claude’s known him.

He looks good in them, something everyone objectively knows. Sometimes Claude looks at his old school uniform and wishes he could go back to those days when he wore black and yellow instead of an emerald green silk brocade cape and shimmering golden kameez tunics. 

He smiles as he sees Byleth sign his name in the same looping cursive that was on every chalkboard in the Golden Deer classroom. And Claude signs his name right beside it on both copies, one for each of them.

“We usher in a new era of understanding between our two kingdoms,” Claude declares, taking Byleth’s hand in a firm handshake.

Byleth looks like he might make a statement, but Claude has one last thing to say to the council and the people.

“The way my brothers have treated our guest from Fódlan has been reprehensible. I move to enact absolute primogeniture, making my heir my sister Safiya. To keep my father’s name upon the throne, her children will bear the name of their mother.”

Immediately after he and Byleth shared that kiss, he found Safiya and briefed her and her fiancé on the plan. Claude said he fell in love in Fódlan, but gave no indicator as to  _ who  _ he fell in love with. He decided if anyone asked, he was going to say Hilda. Nothing like a girl from House Goneril to be star-crossed lovers with. He didn’t have to, but he keeps it in his pocket for later. He might give Hilda a heads up, but she’d make it his responsibility to deal with it. And for once, her laziness would be justified.

Byleth looks shocked at this turn of events, but only in his eyes. The rest of his face is stony as it was when they first met.

Claude wrote it up himself and he puts quill to paper in front of everyone.

It’s a weight off of his shoulders. The treaty, the disinheriting, the biggest stressors in his life are gone. Now he gets to spend time with Byleth before he has to leave. They can have this talk about fears and forever.

—

Claude slides an arm around Byleth’s waist and pulls him over the threshold to his room. As the door shuts, they share a kiss, a small laugh between them as they bump noses. It’s deliberate at this point. They’ve kissed more than enough times to know how to do it right. 

“Can we, um… Maybe to celebrate the signing, we could, er… have sex?” Byleth asks, clearly anxious about the whole thing. Not what Claude expected, but it’s not unwelcome. He’s been waiting for Byleth to bring it up because Claude knows for certain he’s never had sex before and Claude didn’t want either of them to feel like he was coercing him.

“Yes, we can do that.” Claude’s a bit nervous himself. He’s never done this right. He’s never been with someone he wants to see the next morning. “How do you want me?” Claude asks, needing to know before going in. It’ll just make things go more smoothly. 

“I think I want to be inside you.”

That sends a rush of arousal down Claude’s spine. He nods and goes in for another kiss. 

He unclasps his cape, letting it fall to the ground, and thus begins the undressing portion of the evening. There’s a bit of fiddling with buttons and clasps and more than a few laughs as they get a bit tangled with the unfamiliar aspect of undressing another person.

They savor every moment of this, every kiss, every touch, bare skin, mapping the curves and planes of each other’s bodies, Claude’s fingertips tracing scars he personally treated.

They end up in bed, though Claude pops over to his vanity and pulls something out of a drawer. Lubricant. He presses the vial into Byleth’s hand. He needs to be in control of this. 

“So I’ve read in a few books that, um… to curb potential discomfort…” He’s blushing. He’s nervous and shaking like a leaf and it’s very obvious that it’s his first time. He read  _ books. _ It’s endearing and it means a lot that he’s concerned about Claude that way. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can walk you through it,” Claude tells him. Byleth exhales in relief, still the very portrait of a blushing virgin.

The blushing only goes fiercer as they continue, red from his hairline to his chest, as his fingers work Claude open. 

Claude is willing to endure a little pain if only to stop Byleth from combusting from his nerves. “That’s enough. Alright, you’ll want to use more of the oil on yourself and—”

Byleth takes a few deep breaths, deep breaths Claude recognizes from being the sufferer of the “worst case of anxiety” that the healer in Derdriu had ever seen.

“We don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready,” Claude tells him.

“I’m the one who suggested it,” Byleth reminds him. “I just… Are you sure you want to? With me, I mean.”

Byleth has never seemed so insecure in their relationship before now, but right now he’s afraid Claude doesn’t want him when that’s  _ all  _ Claude wants in the world. They vowed to love each other for life. Claude asked him to wed in Brigid. There’s nothing Claude wants more than to be with him in every way imaginable, in every aspect, in every regard. “I love you, Byleth. Ready and willing. Deep breaths, my love.”

He takes those deep breaths and he takes the lubricant and applies a liberal amount to both himself and to Claude’s entrance. He settles on his knees between Claude’s legs, he slips out of place a few times before he gets it right, the head finally breaching the tight rim. Claude struggles to remember to breathe as Byleth sinks deeper and deeper, slow as can be. He’s going slow, thankfully because there’s a sharp pain at the intrusion, but it’s almost torturously slow.

“A little faster,” he manages.

The blushing returns. “Sorry.”

There’s a burn at the stretch, but there's pleasure in the pain. It kind of makes it real. They’re actually  _ doing this.  _ “No, it’s… Oh,  _ fuck me _ ,” falls from his mouth as Byleth slides the rest of the way in with a hard thrust.

“That’s the plan,” he replies.

Claude laughs, blushing himself. That was a bit undignified for a king. It’s a bit undignified for a king to get fucked by the leader of another kingdom, but who the hell cares? Definitely not them.

Byleth shifts his hips to tenuously move in him. It takes him a moment to gain his confidence, but when he does, he has Claude seeing stars. The position at which he entered was very deliberate, perfectly stimulating with each motion. He can’t even manage to make words right now, just moans and panting out vowel sounds over and over. 

Byleth is perfect. He’s the first person Claude’s been with who actually gives a damn about him. Initial awkwardness aside, he’s great, growing more confident as time goes by.

Claude’s orgasm takes him by surprise. He’s in the middle of a long moan between kisses when it turns into a shout as his come erupts between them. He’s sure the same thing happens to Byleth less than a minute later because one second he’s maintaining his rhythm and the next his movements stutter as he spills deep inside Claude.

_ Goddess _ , he’s spectacular. Claude loops an arm around Byleth’s neck to pull him in for a deep and tender kiss. Despite that being Byleth’s first time and all the awkwardness and fumbling that entails, it’s the best sex Claude’s ever had. Sex has never made him feel so tingly and sated and  _ loved _ .

— 

**_Day 25 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1187_ **

**_The morning after…_ **

He wants this every day. He wants to wake up to find the love of his life in his arms. He wants to snuggle him for as long as he wants. He wants to kiss the back of his neck and murmur sweet nothings. He wants domesticity. He wants slow and languid early morning love-making. He wants them to help each other choose what to wear. He wants to help with Byleth’s stupid billowing cloak before he leaves in the morning.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Byleth comments. Claude smiles, knowing  _ of course _ he’s awake and  _ of course  _ he knows exactly what he’s thinking.

“I just love you so much.”

“I want this to last forever too, but we don’t have that luxury.”

“We can run away to Brigid.”

“Claude.”

“I know. It’s just a fantasy.”

“I want it too. I want nothing more than to be with you, but we were, for some reason or another, chosen. Chosen to be in the positions we are, chosen to be who we are, whether by the goddess or Rhea or any of the Almyran gods or whoever or whatever. We’re in these impossible positions and it feels as if we’ll never have anything but these stolen moments.”

“Would it be too suspicious if I chose to return to the Officers Academy once I abdicate?”

“Not necessarily. You spent your most formative years there. I’m sure the students would love to learn archery from a man who can expertly handle a Heroes’ Relic.”

“Well, will I even stand out when the leader of the United Kingdom of Fódlan is around?”

“You could always join the Knights of Seiros. I know you’re jaded and disillusioned with the Church as an institution, but I don’t think either of us can dispute the existence of the goddess.”

“We cannot,” Claude agrees.

“However, there is your role as sovereign duke. That’s an impediment to joining the Knights or even staying at Garreg Mach… I’m busy enough with governance that I’m looking for a replacement to lead the Golden Deer. I’m thinking of calling in Leonie if she’s up for it. If not, you could abdicate your role yet again.”

“And let Lorenz be the duke of the Alliance? Fat chance.” If anyone’s going to be representing his home in support of Byleth’s unified Fódlan, it’s going to be Claude. “I suppose we have time to figure all this out…” He looks at his boyfriend and smiles. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Byleth says, a teasing warmth in his voice.

“I’m pretty sure it got me into bed with you.”

Byleth rolls his eyes and Claude feels butterflies. How in the world does this man love him? He still has trouble believing that he’s lovable to begin with. So many years of being browbeaten into believing the worst of himself… it’s left him broken and difficult to convince that he’s loved.

Byleth does it. He loves him, intensely and deeply, like everything he feels. He promised it and Claude trusts him above anyone else.

They make love again. Soft and slow. Claude feels all kinds of emotions.

They’re an unstoppable duo on the battlefield, so it makes sense that their innate compatibility in combat translates to some serious compatibility in the sack.

Byleth excels at all things physical, that’s for certain. Nothing about his love-making hints at being a virgin until last night.

“We should, uh, get up before the servants arrive this morning,” Claude suggests. “Definitely don’t need them talking about my brothers being correct about us.”

“Definitely,” Byleth agrees.

Claude is a little sore, it was so worth it. He spends most of the time waiting for Yasha and Nadja to bring breakfast and bathwater nuzzling and kissing his boyfriend and dreaming up all the things they can do today. His last day before returning to Fódlan.

—

Claude hasn’t seen Byleth since they ate breakfast in bed together. Claude had to settle a squabble between two of the palace blacksmiths and when he returned to his quarters, Byleth was gone.

After asking around, he finds him in the salon with dowager queens and siblings. He’s deep in conversation with his ten-year-old twin siblings Naveed and Atiya. When Byleth notices Claude, he gives a small wave. Toddling over to Claude is his youngest sibling, born several weeks after his father’s death, little Amiri.

He scoops up the baby and walks over to his boyfriend and the siblings he barely knows. He sits down beside Byleth.

“Hey, Claude,” Byleth says with a smile, leaning over to knock their shoulders together. “Atiya and Naveed were telling me how cool you are for using a bow. I guess people in Almyra don’t commonly use bows.”

“It’s sort of a thing in the Leicester Alliance. Mom made sure I trained just as hard as I did with an axe and sword. It kind of became my thing and axe and sword fell by the wayside.”

“I should’ve figured. Leonie uses a bow, Ignatz uses a bow, even Lysithea sometimes uses a bow. How did I not notice such a huge proportion of my students are archers?” 

“It’s okay, Teach. We still loved your obliviousness anyway. Even Lorenz,” Claude says, resting a hand on Byleth’s shoulder.

“Who’s Lorenz?” Atiya asks.

“Lorenz? Oh, he’s been trying to one-up me ever since we met. He’s obsessed with the Fódlan idea of nobility and insists that he’s the only one who can successfully lead the Alliance successfully.”

“Fódlan nobility doesn’t mean as much as it did before the war,” Byleth says. “Though Lorenz always agreed that the nobility needed to represent and protect their constituents and that’s what they’re doing. They hold open forums once a week for their people to bring their concerns forward and they figure out ways to solve conflict and remedy problems. If the issue is big enough, they bring it to Dimitri, Ferdinand, or Judith and if it’s a bigger problem than they can solve, it comes to Garreg Mach.”

“You’re doing it right,” Claude says, bumping their shoulders together again. Amiri keeps trying to put the royal signet ring on Claude’s finger into his mouth.

“Why don’t we do things like that here?” Naveed wonders.

“Can you imagine if I tried to implement big sweeping changes like that? There would be civil war. I’d be executed and, frankly, I like my head where it is.”

“I do too,” Byleth says teasingly, tapping Claude’s cheek with his fist. “So, what’s on the agenda today, my liege?”

Claude rolls his eyes. “I was thinking we could take a trip to eastern Almyra on your favorite mode of transportation.”

“Hilal is  _ not  _ my favorite mode of transportation.”

“She loves you! I promise she won’t eat you. Won’t even bite you. Not so much as a nibble. She  _ might  _ try to kiss you.”

The twins giggle at Byleth’s grimace and Amiri giggles with them. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“She really does like you.”

“I guess I like her as much as one can like a lizard.”

“I like wyverns,” Amiri says, the first sentence Claude’s ever heard him utter. 

“You have to like them. Even the baby likes them,” Atiya says, taking the youngest one out of Claude’s lap.

“Fine. Let’s go,” Byleth grumbles.

“Great! I’ll have the kitchens pack us a picnic. You’ll get to see life outside the capital and I’ll get to see you get motion sick.”

—

“This is romantic,” Byleth admits, taking in the view of the eastern river towns from the high hill Hilal brought them to. “It’s beautiful.”

“ _ You’re  _ beautiful,” Claude says, leaving a delicate kiss on his lover’s lips. “I’ve always meant to ask… when did you know you were in love with me?”

“When I was looking up at the stars and you joined me and we talked for what felt like ages. You bared your soul to me more than once that night. You said ‘I hope you'll always walk in step with me, at least until the day comes when we can look out at the peaceful world we've built together.’ How could I  _ not  _ fall in love when you said that?”

He knew so much sooner than Claude did. They had barely even begun the war when he said that.

“You knew before I did.”

“I did?”

“I only realized once I’d returned to Almyra. My mother asked if I was in love with you and I didn’t know. I asked how she knew she was in love with my father and every suggestion she gave is something I felt for you. I had been assuming all along that that is what happened in a friendship. The stomach butterflies, the racing, aching heart, and constant blushing. Guess that’s what happens when you’ve never had a friend before.”

“I misinterpreted my feelings for a long time too. I never felt before you. Looking back, I believe I started having feelings for you when you held me as I cried. Obviously that is entirely inappropriate as I was your teacher at that point and, frankly, honestly, there is part of me that is afraid that you’re only consenting to this entire relationship because of the dynamic where I was in a position of authority above you. And once you return to Derdriu, I will once again be in that sort of position.”

“Don’t twist yourself into knots over this. I want you,” Claude says, taking Byleth’s hand into both of his own. “I want you so badly it hurts. The fact that you were my professor is inconsequential and I’ve obviously had feelings for you since before you were my king. I know, I know, you’re not a king. King or not king, I want you.”

“I want you too,” Byleth replies, brushing some of Claude’s hair out of his face. He goes in for a kiss and Claude meets him halfway. “Want you so bad.”

“Right here, right now?”

“Oh, um, maybe?”

“Alright then. Let’s try not to wake the sleeping wyvern.”


	17. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude returns to Garreg Mach and dives headfirst into some old friends' drama.

**_Day 12 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1189_ **

**_It’s raining._ **

Claude is bursting with joy. He’s returned to being Prince Khalid and Duke Riegan. He makes sure to feed Hilal treats as he takes her saddle off before dashing off to find his Prince Charming.

“Have you seen Byleth?” he asks the gatekeeper.

“Greetings, Duke Riegan!” he replies. “You’re sure soaking wet.”

“Where’s Byleth?”

“Likely in the infirmary with Sylvain. Don’t worry, he’s not the one injured.”

“Thanks,” Claude says with a salute, jogging toward the stairs.

He finds Sylvain and Byleth banished to Seteth’s office while the door to the infirmary is shut.

Sylvain looks as if he’s been sobbing and Byleth has an arm around him.

“I don’t want him to die.”

“He won’t die. Linhardt and Manuela are doing their best to heal him.”

“Byleth,” Claude says in the doorway. Green and orange heads tip up to look at him.

“Claude, hi,” Sylvain says, trying to wipe away the evidence that he’s been crying. “Thought you were in Almyra.”

“My abdication is official as of yesterday morning. Hilal and I had to do some packing before I could leave. What’s going on?” he asks, sitting beside Sylvain.

“Felix,” Sylvain replies. His mere name is enough to bring fresh tears to his eyes. Byleth starts rubbing circles into his back.

“He showed up two days ago with dire wounds. Manuela and Linhardt have been at work trying to heal him with magic and more conventional means. Sylvain heard from Ingrid who heard from Raphael who heard from Cyril. He got here a few hours ago.”

“And you came here because you want to make sure he’s okay?”

“I’ve been looking for him since we fought back Nemesis. He disappeared and I’ve been searching for him. Putting up posters and offering rewards… I wanted to tell him how much he means to me. All the flirting with every girl, that was just talk. The only person I ever wanted to be with is Felix.”

Claude has no idea what to say to that. “And you couldn’t tell him. Of course you couldn’t tell him… It takes a lot to tell someone how you really feel, particularly if it’s your best friend and you’re concerned it’ll change everything. But you’ll never know if it’s reciprocated if you don’t  _ try _ , Sylvain.”

“Now I  _ really  _ can’t. I’m engaged to be married. My parents arranged it behind my back. The wedding was supposed to be today. Guess I fucked that up the way I do everything else, huh?”

That hurts Claude’s heart. He was so close to being forced to take a wife. It was the impetus to finally abdicate. The council had started planning his first wedding when he put a quill to paper.

“There’s clearly a problem when you skip your own wedding to be by the side of someone who wanted nothing to do with any of us for years,” Byleth says gently. “You love him, right?”

“So much it hurts. I know Alois caught us kissing in the Goddess Tower and we blamed it on stolen sacramental wine, but we weren’t drunk. I told him how I felt and he accused me of making fun of him, so I kissed him. I’d kissed tons of girls in my life, but not a single one made me feel as alive as kissing Felix did.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Claude tells him. “I kissed countless people, a bunch of strangers, but none of that felt what kissing the person I love felt like. It’s like what you said. It’s like feeling alive for the first time, like you’d been operating as a shell of a person until your lips touched theirs and emotion and life flooded through you.”

“Why’d you come back here instead of staying in Almyra with her?” Sylvain asks with a sniffle.

“The person I love is in Fódlan.”

“You gave up a kingdom for her? That’s so romantic. Sounds like a promise I’d have made to some poor girl,” Sylvain says with a watery laugh. “Doubt I could give up being heir to the margravate for Felix with my only sibling being dead, but I’d give up a whole hell of a lot for him. Goddess, what am I  _ doing? _ Talking about having a crush on a boy to the Archbishop of the Church of fucking Seiros. Am I going to be excommunicated? My dad would be so mad.”

Byleth looks at Claude briefly, giving him the nonverbal message of  _ it’s okay. _

“Sylvain, there’s a reason I came straight here instead of even toweling off all this rainwater.”

“Do you love Felix too?”

“He’s a nice guy and all, but no. I left Almyra for Teach.”

Sylvain is stunned into silence. “I don’t… know… what to say.”

“Don’t be ashamed of who you love,” Byleth says. “We’ll be here waiting with you until they tell us we can see him.”

“ _ I’m _ actually going to go change out of these waterlogged clothes. I’m going to steal something of yours, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Byleth agrees, knowing it’ll take less time for him to run up the stairs than back down to the stable to get the stuff he packed. Before leaving the room, he gives Byleth a peck on the lips, much to the shock of the man beside them. It’s nice to be able to show some affection in front of someone. It’s not exactly the reunion Claude envisioned, but it’s nice to see Sylvain.

—

Byleth has to take care of a kerfuffle between merchants in the marketplace that led to blows being exchanged and that leaves Claude to hold Sylvain’s hand.

Sylvain all but sprints when Manuela finally says they can come in, but exercises restraint.

“He’s not likely to be responsive any time soon,” Linhardt says. Claude feels ill at the bloody instruments on the table and the amount of bloody rags piled next to them. He must barely be alive.

“That’s okay,” Sylvain says, teary-eyed just from getting to see Felix. He pulls up a chair beside him and takes his hand. “I’m here for you, Felix. I’m right here for you.”

“Do you want me to sit with you?” Claude asks.

“No, you should go see the professor. I’ll be fine.”

—

“Alone at last,” Claude says, leaning back on the pillows of Byleth’s bed. It’s nice that he’s taken Rhea’s quarters. It affords a lot more privacy than the room by the sauna.

“At last indeed,” Byleth agrees, sitting on the bed beside him.

Claude throws his knee over Byleth’s thigh to settle into his lap. He presses a kiss to his beloved’s cheek, then a dozen more all over his face. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, darling,” Byleth replies so sweetly. Claude’s stomach fills with butterflies.  _ Darling. _

Claude finally kisses his lips. He draws his tongue over Byleth’s lower lip before sucking it into his mouth. That kiss turns into another and another until they’re languidly kissing, tongues lazily moving together.

Claude feels so happy to finally be with him again. It didn’t sink in until Sylvain said it, but he quite literally gave up a kingdom to be with Byleth. He gave up being a  _ king  _ to be with a man he can’t openly love. Hell, the only people who know are his mother and fucking Sylvain Jose Gautier.

They spend a good half hour or so exchanging unhurried kisses before Byleth breaks it off.

“How’d you leave things?” he asks.

“Oh, I stayed long enough for Safiya’s wedding.  _ Mâmân _ wants to come visit us soon. She hasn’t been to Derdriu in a very long time and she’s never been to Garreg Mach. She really likes you, by the way. I think she’d like you even if you weren’t functionally her son-in-law.”

“Married already, are we?” Byleth asks, raising a brow.

“Well, you’re never getting rid of me,” Claude replies, leaving a kiss on his lover’s cheek. “Y’know, I never wanted to get married until I realized I’d fallen in love with you.”

“And yet we’re in this impossible situation where we can only be open with our love in front of each other, your mother, and Sylvain.” Byleth’s voice trembles. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“It’s hard, but I wouldn’t exchange the love I feel for you for anything. I want to spend my life with only you and you alone,” Claude assures him, sealing it with a kiss, maybe a little overeager.

“I’m afraid to watch you die,” Byleth says, voicing a concern Claude already knows. “If I can’t die and you can… I’m not ready to live with you for several decades and live millennia without you, miserable like Rhea without Sothis.”

“We’ll have to look into it. Until the day comes when we have to part, we have to treasure our time together. Whether it’s forever or just while I go to Derdriu.”

“Treasure, eh? Are you propositioning me for sex?” Byleth asks with a joking laugh.

“I mean, I’m not  _ not  _ propositioning you.”

“Is it something you want right now? Do you want me inside you?”

“You can’t just  _ say  _ these things to me,” Claude groans with a grin. “I’m going to take my clothes off now. Take yours off too, just for the sake of expediency.”

Goddess, Byleth is so beautiful. He wants to kiss every inch of that sculpted, scarred, perfect body.

“I hope I’m okay at this. It’s only my second time going through the full song and dance,” Byleth warns, like Claude wasn’t already aware this is only their fourth time together, as he warms up the lubricant between his fingers before breaching the tight ring of muscle with his index. Claude shudders at the intrusion and a kiss gets left on his shoulder.

Byleth is clearly trying to remember how to do this, drizzling more oil onto his middle finger to go with the first. He makes a scissoring motion, opening him up even further, even striking that sweet spot and getting rewarded with a moan that escapes Claude’s throat. He puts in a third, whispering that he doesn’t want to hurt him.

“That’s enough,” Claude assures him. “I want to feel you.”

Byleth is always quick to please Claude. He slicks himself up and gently bites down on Claude’s shoulder as he slides in slowly.

Claude lets out an embarrassingly needy noise at the teeth and the stretch. Goddess above, it feels so  _ good _ .

“You are so incredible,” Claude manages between unbidden gasps. “ _Ah, ah, oh,_ _fuck_.”

“Do you like this?” Byleth asks, his first attempt at dirty talk. It’s adorable.

“Love it. Love  _ you. _ ”

“Love you too. Love you so, so much. Everything about you.”

Claude’s heart soars. Honestly, he feels it every time Byleth says it, but making sure he says it back in the throes of passion? It’s enough to make him want to cry.

Byleth dips his toes into the dirty talk pond again, to the same amount of adorable success. “You feel really good. It feels really good to be with you.”

“Mhm, so good,” Claude agrees, kissing along Byleth’s chin, leaving a mark with his teeth at the hinge of his jaw.

Okay, leaving marks is probably not the  _ best  _ idea, but Claude doesn’t make that connection until he’s already leaving a second one on Byleth’s throat. He abruptly stops and connects their lips again in a hungry kiss, looping his arms around his beloved’s neck to pull him in close. One of Byleth’s hands gingerly rests on the side of Claude’s face as they kiss.

“Byleth,” Claude moans against his mouth as the thrusts get a little more erratic, “come inside me.”

Claude reaches the finish line first, just moments before Byleth does, spending inside Claude as directed. Claude feels aftershocks of the initial orgasm for a good several minutes.

They begin to come down from their high, still entangled, kissing lovingly. Claude gets this amazing impossible man all to himself, getting these moments that only they will ever know.

—

**_Day 13 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1189_ **

**_A thunderstorm comes rolling in._ **

Sylvain hasn’t left Felix’s side since he was allowed to join him, so while Byleth is working, Claude brings a lunch of pheasant roast with berry sauce to the infirmary for them to share.

“Thank you,” Sylvain says gratefully. “You understand why I can’t go, right?”

“I do… What do you anticipate his reaction being when he wakes up to find you beside him?”

“I’ve been worrying myself sick about that,” he admits. “Last time we saw each other, he said he never wanted to see me again. I bet you can imagine how bad that’d feel coming from the professor, right? That’s how I felt.”

Claude’s stomach aches at the idea. He had no idea Sylvain and Felix’s friendship was so brittle.

“He withdrew a lot when Glenn died,” Sylvain says, almost reading Claude’s mind. “He let me hold his hand when his mom died, but he lost more than Glenn in Duscur. Dimitri lost his mind. We lost our best friend, he lost his brother, and he lost his father to grief. Even Ingrid couldn’t get through to him.”

“Did you ever get through to him again?”

“Rodrigue decided we would have the customary party for the heir to the kingdom’s sixteenth birthday. It was a lot smaller than it typically would have been. There wasn’t the ceremonial aspect of it since King Lambert wasn’t there. I suggested that dancing with a pretty girl would get the grimace off of Felix’s face and he punched me.”

“He punched you?”

“It was the first time he’d shown emotion since Glenn. It showed me that he’s still the same Felix under there, beneath the layers he built around himself as protection. Still the same Felix that crawled into bed with me more than once because it was cold or he missed his mom. Still the same Felix that cried when Ingrid broke the skin with a training lance. Underneath that tough exterior, he was still the same Felix I’d cared for my entire life. He was still my best friend, even though he pretended he didn’t need anyone in his life.” Sylvain takes a shaky breath. “When we were little, Felix told me he never wanted to live without me and I said I felt the same, so we, at like nine and eleven, decided we had to die on the exact same day so neither of us would have to live without the other.”

That’s equal parts adorable and heartbreaking. They went from that sort of inseparableness to ice cold and disconnected.

“So when did you realize you’re in love with him?”

Sylvain blushes something fierce. “Well, probably my first time. I called her Felix.” 

“Well, that’s one way for latent feelings to surface.”

“I did some soul-searching after that and realized that, holy shit, I love Felix.”

“And what happened with the Goddess Tower?”

“Oh, well, uh… He saw me going in, thought I was meeting a girl. I was actually  _ hiding _ from a girl for what it’s worth. He thought he’d get his two cents of mockery in before she showed up, I guess. He made some remark about my womanizing and I just blurted out that it was all to get him out of my head. I told him I’m in love with him and he accused me of lying. I said I wasn’t, but he didn’t believe me, so I kissed him.”

“And Alois found you right then?”

“No, he found us about ten minutes later when I had my hands under Felix’s shirt and he had my jacket halfway off. Things got even icier after that. He built his walls up so high that nobody had a chance at seeing over it. Not even Dedue and he’s taller than all of us.”

Claude smiles at his little joke. “I think if you’re genuine and honest with him, the results you get will be good.”

Sylvain nods. “So, uh, when did you know you were in love with the professor?”

“I didn’t. Not until my mom told me that the butterflies in my stomach and the blushing and pounding heart and yearning were symptoms of being in love. Because of my split heritage, I had no friends before Teach, so I misinterpreted the signs. There were so many signs and I was oblivious to all of them.”

“Oblivious like the professor was about  _ everything _ .”

Claude grins. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“It’s cute. I’m happy for the two of you. You seem to be in a good place.”

“We are. He’s afraid that having the goddess’s Crest Stone inside his chest will make him live forever while I’m mortal, so we’ve been having talks about that. He doesn’t want to live forever all alone once I’m gone.”

“Shit. That’s the reason Felix and I made that vow to die on the same day. Didn’t want to live one without the other. It’s unrealistic, but I know I don’t want Felix to leave me again.”

“Water…” Sylvain and Claude’s attention turns to the man on the cot. Felix is stirring.

“I’ll go get Manuela. You get him some water,” Claude directs.

—

Claude and Manuela give Sylvain some space to be with Felix, which is a good thing because while Claude is buying some bait in the marketplace, charging through the gates is good old Margrave Gautier with two women in tow. One of the women is wearing a wedding dress and the other looks like Sylvain. 

Someone’s gotta warn Sylvain. He tells the gatekeeper to stall, stall,  _ stall _ while he sprints to the nearest stairwell, bowling over a few nuns and Cyril on his way to the infirmary.

He’s out of breath by the time he throws the door open and says, “Your dad is here.”

“Fuck!” he shouts, dropping Felix’s hand. “I’ve gotta hide. Where can I hide? Claude, where do I  _ hide? _ ”

“Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve had a good scheme,” Claude says gleefully. “Go upstairs and hide in Byleth’s room, okay? Nobody’s getting into the king’s quarters. He’d kill me if he heard me call him a king, but if the shoe fits, right? I’ll give them a tour and once they don’t find you… Where’s Manuela? Someone should stay with Felix.”

“Across the hall,” Felix replies, voice scratchy.

“Alright, let’s get Manuela in here to watch her patient,” Claude says. “Byleth’s room should be unlocked right now, but lock yourself in. There are a ton of books in there so you won’t get bored. Glad to see you’re alright, Felix.”

“Leaving a note telling them where I went was probably not the best idea,” Sylvain realizes in hindsight.

Claude rolls his eyes. Of course.

—

“Margrave Gautier, hello! I’m Claude von Riegan, duke of Leicester, formerly King Khalid of Almyra, but I abdicated to be with my true love: Fódlan. You must introduce me to everyone in your traveling party!”

“My wife Genevieve, my soon-to-be daughter-in-law Elsie.”

“Wonderful. Hey! Have you been to Garreg Mach since the renovations? I’d love to show you around.”

“I would like to find my son.”

“I haven’t seen Sylvain, but I only got here yesterday from abdicating from Almyra. You know, Almyra’s not that different from Fódlan.”

And thus begins the “boring them to death” part of the tour.

—

“I think that about does it. Weird we didn’t run into Sylvain,” Claude says, putting on a show.

“He’s hiding. Probably in some student’s room,” the margrave accuses.

“If you want to find each student and get their consent to check their rooms, go ahead. Otherwise I don’t know what to tell you, Margrave. Maybe he left.”

“I demand we check the infirmary. He left because of that Fraldarius boy being injured.”

“He’s still in recovery. He regained consciousness today and is living on ice chips and water and can barely speak.”

“If my son isn’t in there, I will leave.”

“Fine,” Claude says, folding his arms across his chest. “Let’s go to the infirmary.”

—

Felix is there, alone except for Manuela. She immediately starts in on leaving her patient be while he’s recovering and Claude is apologetic, but Margrave Gautier raises his voice and points out that the bag on the floor at the end of Felix’s cot is Sylvain’s.

Shit. Fuck. The Master Tactician has been foiled.

“Let me go see if I can find him,” Claude grumbles. 

He makes sure no one follows him as he goes up the stairs to the third floor. He knocks on the door to the room he left that morning.

“It’s Claude,” he says. He hears a sigh before the lock unlatches and the door opens. “Your bag is still in the infirmary.”

“Dammit,” Sylvain says with a wince. “I guess I’d better face the music, huh?”

“You don’t have to. I’ll tell him to get the fuck out on behalf of the king I’m dating.”

Sylvain snorts. “Pretty sure you can’t just say _ that _ .”

“Fine. I’ll find the king I’m dating and tell him to tell your dad to get the fuck out.”

“I’ll just face him. Might as well, right?”

“Listen, I know what it’s like to have a rough relationship with your dad. There are a million things I wish I could say to him to finally stand up for myself, but he’s dead. You have a chance to stand up for yourself. I hope you take it.”

Sylvain nods and walks out of the room. Claude follows him until they reach the infirmary again.

“I’m not getting married,” is the first thing out of Sylvain’s mouth. “I don’t exist to make Crest-bearing grandchildren for you. Here’s some news for you — the professor is changing the landscape of Fódlan, so Crests and nobility don’t mean the same thing for me as they did for you. I’m not getting married. Sorry, but I can’t marry someone I don’t love.”

“And who do you love, Sylvain? Nobody,” the margrave says, pointing a finger in his son’s face. “You’re a skirt-chaser. You have to have someone else tie you down and make you grow to love that person otherwise you’ll never fall in love.”

“I love  _ Felix _ , okay?!”

Oh.

Holy.

SHIT.

“Sylvain, are you serious?” his mother asks.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m serious. He’s not even conscious to hear me say it, but it’s the truth. I’ve been in love with him for years. He’s the only person I ever loved.”

“I cannot believe you’re saying this in the monastery. This is the resting place of Saint Seiros!” the margrave snaps.

“I told the leader of the church  _ and  _ Fódlan and — guess what — he didn’t care. Ask Claude, he was there.”

“Byleth didn’t mind. If I had to guess, he’d change the laws and stigma if he could without backlash. I can only guess, but I’ve been his best friend for years, so I have a pretty good read on him. That, and he told me. I wanted to do the same in Almyra, but people already wanted me dead there. Love between two consenting adults shouldn’t be criminalized. Byleth once said that to me when we were talking about the princess of Brigid and her consort Dorothea.” And, of course, their own situation. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but isn’t your son’s happiness more important than anything else?”

“You saw what they turned Miklan into. They don’t care about their children’s happiness one bit.”

“Yeah, I have that kind of experience too,” Claude admits. “If it’s alright, Sylvain, I’d like to escort your lovely parents out of here.”

“Please do.”

—

Sylvain hugs him. For a very long time. A  _ very  _ long time. Long enough that Manuela has time to change the dressings on  _ all  _ of Felix’s wounds before Sylvain lets him go.

“Thank you for telling me to stand up to my dad,” he says, kissing Claude on the top of his head. “You’re a good friend. A better friend than I deserve.”

“Hey, of course. Anytime you need me, Sylvain.”

“Were you serious about the professor wanting to change the way things are?”

“Dead serious. He’s afraid it’ll look suspect if he does it and then immediately has a husband who was once king of another country.”

“Oh, you guys are already talking  _ marriage? _ ”

“I asked him to marry me just a few months after we first kissed.”

“Damn. Well, I know who’s going to be making a drunk toast at that wedding. He’s a ginger and doesn’t hold his liquor well.”

“Thanks, Sylvain. It’s nice to have a friend to talk to about all of this. Honestly, I’ve never been one to be vulnerable, so consider yourself lucky.”

“Same to you, Claude. Same to you.”

“I’m going to go catch dinner with Teach, but I’ll bring something back for you. Stay with Felix until he wakes up again.”

“Thanks.”

Claude leaves the infirmary with a smile plastered to his face. 


	18. I Need You, Be Near Me, Come Shield Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Byleth spend a rainy day together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have writer's block, so have some short fluff~

**_Day 14 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1189_ **

**_Thunder and lightning fill the sky._ **

One day Felix is barely conscious and the next, Claude finds him at the training grounds with Sylvain fussing over him like a mother hen.

“You can’t just pick up a sword, Felix. You need to get better first.”

“I am better,” the stubborn man insists.

“No, you’re not,” Claude says as he inspects some obsidian arrowheads. “And it’s pouring rain. You’ll slip. And a metal sword is the worst thing to handle during a lightning storm.”

“See? Claude agrees with me. You’re not well, Felix,” Sylvain pleads.

“I don’t recall asking an opinion from either of you.”

“Felix, you were basically dead just yesterday,” Claude points out, twirling an arrow in his fingers. “I’m going to tattle on you to Manuela. Do you really want her wrath? She’ll snap and then talk about her problems with men and then loop around back to berating you.”

“She doesn’t have man problems anymore. She and Hanneman are together,” Sylvain informs him.

“Oh shit,” Claude says with a chuckle. “Well, still. She’ll be irate.”

“What are you doing here if it’s so dangerous?” Felix sneers.

“Boredom. Thought I’d use Failnaught —  _ not  _ metal — to shoot some targets.”

“Your boyfriend is too busy to entertain you?” Felix asks.

“How did you—”

“I was semi-conscious, not  _ un _ conscious when you talked about marrying him.”

Claude blushes. “So how did it go between the two of you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Felix grumbles. Sylvain gives a shaky hand behind Felix’s head, indicating it was a bit awkward.

“Alright. So I’m going to shoot some dummies in the head. You go lay down,” Claude insists. “Respect your elders.”

“You are barely older than me.”

“And Sylvain is two years older. Go. Lay. Down.”

Felix grumbles something else and gives a rude hand gesture and tosses the sword onto the ground frustratedly.

Sylvain fusses over him, putting Felix’s arm around him to share his weight as they walk out. The height disparity is kind of cute. Tall Sylvain and diminutive Felix. 

Claude supposes he can’t exactly call Felix diminutive since he and Teach are basically the same height as him. Claude has found he likes being the same height as his boyfriend. Makes sharing clothes a lot easier. Claude’s in a pair of Byleth’s trousers at the moment with Byleth’s soft, rain resistant jacket over his shoulders.

Claude really did come out to fool around with a bow. He didn’t come with the intention of bullying Felix into taking care of himself, though he definitely needed that. He wasn’t listening to Sylvain, so an outsider needed to intervene.

Claude finds himself humming a song he heard Annette singing years and years ago as he fires off arrows in rapid succession into the heads of training dummies in a line. 

Okay, he’s bored and doesn’t want to go back to Derdriu just yet. He missed Byleth so much when they were apart, so he’s savoring these stolen moments together. He’s in love and he’s happy. He doesn’t have to deal with ruling a kingdom and Judith is still handling the business in Derdriu. He basically has no responsibilities at present except being there to comfort his stressed and exhausted partner. 

After the drama with Sylvain’s father, the margrave insisted on talking to Byleth about Sreng, which led to a tension headache and a knot of stress in his shoulder. A pain relief elixir from Manuela and a massage healed the worst of it. Cuddling and conversation until Byleth fell asleep had to have helped too.

“ _ Living in a land that's dark and blinded by the frigid cold. Creeping through the loneliness for ages untold. In your heart you're desperate for the sweet embrace of light. Pushing through and crawling with all of your might... Here! Creepy creepy creepity creep… Now! Creepy creepy creepity creep… _ ” he hums as he retrieves his arrows.

“Nice song.”

It’s the only person who can ever sneak up on him, his darling, his beloved, his Teach. Here to talk to him in a thunderstorm instead of meeting with merchants as he had intended to do today.

“Merchants have been assuaged, so my afternoon is free,” he offers by way of explanation, reading Claude’s mind exactly. “Wanna finally teach me how to shoot a bow?”

“Right. Your knowledge exists in a textbook, not in practical application,” Claude recalls. “Come on over, learn a new skill with the rain in your eyes.”

Against his better judgment, he hands Failnaught over to Byleth, who is clearly not expecting the weight.

“Even heavier than a metal bow. I’m just now realizing I’ve never handled your weapon.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say  _ that _ ,” Claude teases, giving him a cheeky wink. “Alright, you’re already holding it wrong.” He wraps his arms around his king, correcting his hold. His chin rests on Byleth’s shoulder as he guides him through nocking the arrow, pulling back the string, and firing directly at a dummy.

It doesn’t make a headshot, but catches in the thick straw body. It’s actually sort of impressive that, despite jerking out of where Claude had been aiming for him, he still made it into the dummy.

“Way to go,” Claude says, leaving a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. “First time my mom tried that with me, I hit Nader in the foot.”

Byleth smiles and leans backward into Claude’s arms. “You’re a good teacher.”

“The tables have certainly turned since our first meeting,” Claude says with a grin. “Let’s go inside. The rain’s picking up again.”

“I know the perfect way to warm up.” Claude kisses his cheek again, waiting for the bait and switch. “Dry clothes and hot tea.”

“Ugh, that sounds perfect,” Claude declares. “Do you have enough time in your day to snuggle with the duke of Leicester?”

“When is the duke of Leicester going home?”

“He’s always at home with you.”

Byleth laughs, letting Claude leave kisses on the side of his neck, leaning further into his arms. The sound is beautiful and makes Claude fall further in love. 

“If he’s being serious, in a few days he will return to Derdriu upon his trusty sidekick, the great and fearsome wyvern Hilal.”

Byleth laughs again, music to Claude’s ears. “I’m not so sure I’m afraid of her anymore.”

“Oh really?” 

“I’ve fallen so deeply in love with her master that my fear has been eliminated. I trust he’d never devote himself to a creature that would hurt me.”

“Took you long enough,” Claude teases, his lips grazing Byleth’s ear.

“Let’s go. Warm clothes, hot tea,” Byleth decides, standing firmly back on his feet. Claude misses the weight of him against his chest already.

“Warm clothes, hot tea,” Claude echoes happily.

—

Nothing beats a nice cup of chamomile and a cuddle with the one you love. Claude feels very happy cuddled close to his beloved as they share sips from one big mug of tea.

This is the domesticity Claude craves so much. Some down time, a chance to be together with no goal in sight, just  _ existing. _

Claude watches as the rain hits the windows. “I don’t want to go back to Derdriu. I know I have to, but I’d be content staying in this room with you forever,” he says, running his fingers through Byleth’s pale green hair.

“Responsibilities are the worst,” Byleth agrees. “We were chosen for these roles. I suppose it was more of a choice for my appointment than yours. Yours was chosen by blood and Crest. Rhea chose me to lead the church and you chose me to lead Fódlan into its new dawn.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

They settle into comfortable silence, sharing tea as Claude massages Byleth’s scalp. Claude feels full and content in a way he never thought possible. 

“I’ve never felt happier than I do right now,” Byleth says, voicing Claude’s very thoughts. “I don’t need to be anyone else when we’re together. I’m not the Enlightened One or the Ruler of Dawn. I’m just a man who loves you.”

“I love you too,” Claude says softly, kissing the top of Byleth’s head. “More than words could ever express.”


	19. Dancing in the Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Byleth dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW small reference to past CSA
> 
> This took forever and I blame the election!! I'm not happy with it, but *presents garbage*

**_Day 25 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1189_ **

**_The night sky is brilliant._ **

The dashing Enlightened One is a wallflower, merely observing the dancing of students around and around and around.

He clearly wasn’t anticipating a certain someone walking up to him and extending their hand.

“Claude,” he says with a grin, “I had no idea you were coming to the ball.”

“How could I resist the chance for frivolity?”

It’s unspoken that the reason he’s  _ really  _ there is to cushion the blow of the ninth anniversary of Jeralt’s death in just a few days.

Byleth looks handsome, as always. He’s not the leader of the Deer anymore — no, that’s Lysithea now. He needs to focus on leading the country. He can’t be devoting time to lesson plans and combat drills.

It’s not surprising he’s at the ball though. Even Rhea showed up to theirs, though she bowed out not long after Teach did.

That night was undoubtedly the night Claude began to fall for the impossible man whose hand finds his, who walks with him to the dance floor.

While students (and Hanneman and Manuela) waltz around them, Byleth puts his hands on Claude’s shoulders and Claude’s hands hold Byleth’s waist and they don’t step so much as they sway and rock back and forth. They make conversation very quietly, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

“Have you heard from Sylvain recently? Since his father’s heart attack, he’s taken on a lot more responsibilities and has negotiated a truce with Sreng.  _ Sylvain  _ of all people,” Byleth says with a laugh. “I suppose he always  _ was  _ good at charming people. Anyway, I’m traveling to Gautier in a few weeks to put my signature on the treaty.”

“It’s a shame he failed to charm Felix the way he’d hoped,” Claude says sadly. “I didn’t expect him to just disappear again. Not after that.”

“He’s been staying with Ingrid and Raphael. He asked me not to tell Sylvain.”

“Sylvain’s such a good guy. How could he not see that?”

“He does. He does. It frightens him.”

“Because he doesn’t feel the same?”

“Because he does.”

Oh. Claude’s not sure he understands. He tries to put himself into Felix’s shoes, but struggles. He’s the one who blurted it out in his relationship and it was on Byleth to decide whether he was going to give voice to his own feelings.

“Did you consider not telling me?”

“Yes. There was a split-second where I was petrified of letting you know and being  _ so  _ vulnerable, but I knew I was safe with you. I’ve always known that.” Claude’s stomach fills with butterflies. Goddess, he loves Byleth so much and Byleth loves him so much. “Felix is the most guarded person I know. He  _ can’t  _ be vulnerable.”

“That’s so sad,” Claude says with a frown. “Do you think he’ll ever open up?”

“I don’t know. I fear it doesn’t matter anymore. Sylvain very quietly got married several months ago. Elsie, the girl he ran from, says she doesn’t care if it’s a loveless marriage as long as she has children to love.”

“Oh my… That’s so sad,” Claude repeats. “Does Felix know that?”

“No. Sylvain asked me not to tell anyone but you. I guess he knows I can’t hide anything from you. Felix is going to Fhirdiad and meeting with Dimitri before returning to Fraldarius to take over from his uncle.”

Claude frowns again. “This is so bad. Why can’t they just kiss each other?”

“Felix is stubborn and likely refuses to believe Sylvain is genuine because of his skirt-chasing history.”

The Blue Lions have a problem with forbidden love. Dimitri’s in love with Dedue, who still refuses to call him by name. Felix is in love with Sylvain, but is too afraid to do anything about it. Sylvain is in love with Felix, but feels rejected. 

At least Ingrid and Raphael got over their impediment. Ingrid’s the one who proposed. They’ve invited Claude to the wedding and he’s definitely going. Imagine the feast those two are going to throw…

Ashe and Hapi are, well,  _ happy. _ They’re expecting a child any day now.

Annette and Mercedes are thriving in their respective roles, but writing to each other every week. Claude’s not able to put a finger on what exactly their deal is, but it’s obvious they love each other very much.

“People are staring at us,” Byleth astutely notices. Claude looks around and finds that, yes, people are looking quite intently at the pair of them dancing like no one else is. Oh, right. That’s a tinge curious. 

Claude removes his hands from Byleth’s waist and Byleth takes his hands off of Claude’s shoulders.

“Goddess Tower?” Byleth asks, even quieter than their conversation.

Claude nods, a smile forming on his cheeks.

—

Claude arrives after Byleth, who is sitting on an old divan when he arrives. They greet one another with a kiss, one Claude has been looking forward to all night.

“You look super hot tonight,” Claude remarks, leaving a kiss on the side of Byleth’s neck.

“Flatterer.”

“What can I say? I’m aesthetically pleased by you. Pleased by you in several ways, actually.”

“You are  _ not  _ getting laid here.”

“I figured. Anyone could wander up here. I  _ did  _ bring lube, just in case.”

“Slut,” Byleth teases, knocking his knee against Claude’s.

Claude grins and kisses his stupid, handsome, kind, brilliant boyfriend. “Only for you, my love.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe the person I want to spend eternity with is  _ you _ . My foolish Claude von Riegan.”

“Well, you’re in too deep to get out now.”

“I’ll never want to. That is my vow to you, my beautiful, silly man.”

Claude leans in and slides a hand into Byleth’s hair to kiss him  _ hard _ . He wants him to know the depth of that love goes both ways.

“Alright, students, we have to ask you to—” 

“Oh my!”

Was that Seteth and Mercedes? Oh Goddess, was that  _ Seteth and Mercedes? _

“Claude? Professor?” Mercedes asks.

“Guilty,” Claude admits, swearing he turns scarlet. Byleth is definitely pink in the face. They’re basically a pair of teenagers getting caught swapping spit. Which is basically what they’re doing, a decade too late to be teenagers.

“We thought you were students. Mercedes saw someone entering and we assumed it was amorous students taking the legends seriously,” Seteth says sheepishly, almost as if  _ he  _ was the one just caught making out.

“We should probably not do this where anyone could approach,” Byleth says apologetically. 

Claude almost expects a stern  _ or at all  _ from Seteth, but it doesn’t come. Mercedes is blushing harder than Byleth is.

“I didn’t realize the two of you were,” Seteth begins, but then doesn’t complete. Obviously he doesn’t even know what to say.

“In love?” Byleth offers.

“Love?” Mercedes asks with a dreamy smile.

“Well, that explains several things,” Seteth remarks in a curt tone. “There is something to be said about this, but this is not the time. I suggest you take this elsewhere lest two students looking to take advantage of the legend come wandering in.”

Is Saint Cichol giving them permission to go make out? Not that they  _ need  _ permission, but one of the Four fucking Saints?

“Keep an eye out. Don’t need any kids getting pregnant on your watch,” Claude teases, clapping Seteth on the shoulder as he walks past.

“ _ Claude _ ,” Byleth scolds.

He laughs and slings his arm around Byleth’s shoulders and kisses his cheek. “You know I love you, Your Majesty.”

Byleth sighs, turning bright red. “Oh my goddess…”

—

“Why did you dance with me?” 

Claude looks at Byleth with a teasing smile before he twirls him. They’re dancing on the Star Terrace beneath the moonlight and twinkling stars, a far more permissive environment than the stuffy atmosphere of the ball.

“Because I love you?” he supplies once they’re facing each other once more.

“I don’t mean tonight. I mean the ball when I was your professor and you were my student.”

Claude thinks. He kisses his boyfriend as he thinks. His brain is somewhere else while his lips are on Byleth’s.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. I think I started to fall in love with you that night. Probably after the twirl and dip and I got to look into your midnight blue eyes. My fate was sealed as we talked in the Goddess Tower.”

“So we can trace our relationship to one moment nine years ago? Reaching your hand out to me to dance?”

“Yes. I’m ignorant of my own motivations, but I’m glad where it ended up. Falling in love with you is the greatest thing to ever happen to me.”

Byleth wraps his arms a bit more tightly around Claude and pulls him flush against his body, resting his chin on Claude’s shoulder. “I wish my father were alive to see how much you make me smile.”

“Based on his journal, he already knew how much I made you smile.”

“Yeah, I suppose. He knew I smiled at you for being a dork, not because I’m so stupidly in love with you.”

“Is that what people think  _ now? _ That you smile at me for being a dork, I mean.”

Byleth chuckles. “They do. You’re the biggest dork people know.”

Claude leans back far enough to take Byleth’s face into his hands and lay a big sloppy kiss onto his lips. “I love you, you equally big dork.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Byleth says, bringing a big smile to Claude’s face. He absolutely loves when Byleth uses terms of endearment like that and Byleth can seemingly tell as he adds, “My darling, I know you were disappointed we didn’t make love in the Goddess Tower—”

“Good thing since Mercedes and Seteth showed up,” Claude interjects.

“Yes, exactly why I shot that down. Would you like for me to, erm, pleasure you  _ now _ ?”

Byleth is always so  _ earnest _ with everything he says and everything he does. The wording is what gets Claude. He had a feeling Byleth gets off on getting him off, but the phrasing basically confirms that. He wants to make Claude feel good and that makes Claude’s heart ache with love. He wants to make Byleth feel good too.

“As much as I’d love for you to ravish me here in the moonlight, the marble floor  _ is _ a little hard. Let’s go to bed.”

—

**_Day 26 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1189_ **

**_The sun rises far too early._ **

****

As much as Claude despises mornings, it’s a lot better when he wakes up as the little spoon, a pair of strong arms holding him from behind, warm breath on the back of his neck.

He feels sleepy, but he’s been conditioned to wake up with the sun by his sword trainer in Derdriu. Quent has him on a strict practice regimen to refine what Felix taught him years ago. Riegans don’t use axes, they use swords. Well, swords and bows. He has the bow part down pat. It’s just his wielding of the Sword of Begalta that needs perfection.

Claude feels sleepy because of the warmth at his back, luring him back to dreamland, but he knows he has to get up. He doesn’t want to wake Byleth though. Goddess knows the guy needs more sleep than he gets.

Instead he shifts, turning in his lover’s arms to gaze upon his face. He looks so peaceful when he’s asleep, all the stress melted away from his features. He’s so goddess-damn beautiful. Claude’s stomach fills with butterflies as his eyes take in the beauty of the man who’s chosen to be with him. He could have anyone he wants and he’s with  _ Claude _ .

It’s not just his beauty on the outside, but inside too. His heart and his mind. Byleth is wholly stunning and it gives Claude heart palpitations just considering the depth of his own love. It’s dizzying.

Claude reaches out to caress Byleth’s face, just the slightest touch. A soft kiss upon his forehead. Byleth smiles in his sleep, his arms cinching tighter around Claude’s middle.

“I love you so much,” Claude whispers to him in awe. 

He’s just going to stare at him until he wakes up. He loses track of how long he’s been staring with hearts in his eyes before he gets a kiss.

“Good morning, my love,” Byleth murmurs. “How long have you been watching me sleep?”

“Not sure. You needed the sleep. Didn’t want to wake you.”

He receives a grateful kiss from his love. “I think you’re deserving of a reward.”

Claude raises a brow in curiosity, but his curiosity is fulfilled when teeth sink into his neck and a hand reaches between his legs. Oh, okay.  _ That’s  _ a good reward.

“Turn over.”

Claude very happily complies, allowing himself to be little spoon once again. He melts at the kisses on the back of his neck.

Slick with a bit of spit and the remnants of oil from the night before, Byleth slides in without much resistance. Hands grip his waist delicately as Byleth thrusts into him, slowly and deliberately. Claude tips his head back and moans. 

Good morning indeed.

—

“Part of me can’t believe you still eat in the dining hall. I never saw Rhea do that.”

Byleth shrugs. “I’m not a king. I don’t have servants to bring me my meals. On that topic, how do you live without the royal treatment?”

“So much better. It was awkward. Even in Derdriu, I feel uncomfortable having servants. My mom made sure I wasn’t exactly raised in the lap of luxury. She didn’t want me growing up to be a pompous dick like my brothers. I wanted for nothing, but I earned what I had.”

Claude pushes his bourgeois pike around his plate as Byleth looks at his face intensely. Claude wishes he could see into his boyfriend’s brain sometimes. What is he thinking as he gazes upon Claude?

“Gold piece for your thoughts,” he says, looking at his beautiful lover with a little less intensity.

“Just thinking about how nice it would be to spend forever with you by my side. I vow to you, before the tenth anniversary of our first dance, I will confess my love for you in public.”

Claude’s stomach does a flip and he feels like his heart might launch out his throat. That’s a year. He’ll be out before twelve moons have passed.

“That is, if you’ll have me,” Byleth amends.

“Of course I do,” Claude says brightly, wishing he could lean across this table and kiss him. He settles for a subtle hand-hold on top of the table. Luckily the dining hall is relatively empty so nobody overhears them. Still, he whispers when he says, “I love you.”

Byleth’s smile is everything. “And you as well.”

—

**_Day 11 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1189_ **

**_It’s a snowy day._ **

Claude has a massive stack of letters that come in on Saint Seiros Day. If he knows Byleth, he’ll be in Rhea’s tomb for a lot of the day. She’s responsible for his life, so he likes to honor that, even if what she did was shady and unethical.

At the top of the pile is a reminder of Raphael and Ingrid’s wedding next week at Garreg Mach. Of course he’ll attend.

The next few are regular day-to-day business. Then he comes to one with the Fraldarius seal. In Felix’s hand is one sentence.  _ You and I will speak at the wedding. _

Ingrid’s one of his childhood friends so it’s not surprising Felix is going to the wedding. Sylvain and Dimitri are sure to be there as well. Oh dear, that’ll likely be the first time Felix sees Sylvain since the awkward declaration of love. And if what Byleth is saying is true, they’re both harboring serious feelings for each other.

He wonders about the one sentence. Oh, he’s going to want to talk about this. He knows Claude knows about Sylvain’s attraction and he knows that Claude is with Byleth, so maybe he assumes that there are no secrets.

What if Felix is going to kill him to protect his secret?

That’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t do that… Right?

—

**_Day 18 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1189_ **

**_There’s a chill in the air._ **

It’s fantastic to see all of his friends from the academy days. (It’s easier to think of it that way, rather than friends from the war.) Hilda actually leaps onto his back and has to be helped down by Marianne. Marianne looks so happy and, when Ferdinand greets him and she takes him by the arm, she looks so in love.

Speaking of looking in love, Dimitri and Dedue are there. Dimitri looks besotted when he looks at Dedue and Dedue looks oblivious and on the job as vassal.

“You clean up well,” Claude says, gesturing to the haircut that looks like the one he sported at the academy. “You don’t look like a feral animal anymore.”

“I don’t feel like one either. For the first time in a long time, I’m happy to be where I am and I’m happy with who I’m with.”

“His Highness is refusing to take a wife,” Dedue says. “I do not understand how he could be happy with who he’s with without a wife or even a lover.”

“Maybe he’s happy with  _ you _ ,” Claude suggests. Dimitri glares daggers at him with his one eye, likely feeling that everything surrounding their kiss is to be forgotten. Claude just smiles. “Forgive me, Your Princeliness.”

“Of course, Your Kingliness,” Dimitri retorts mockingly, one of the first times Claude’s heard him be anything other than earnest.

Out of the corner of his eye, Claude catches the stare of a dark-haired swordsman.

“Dimitri, Dedue, always a pleasure. I’ve got hands to shake and hugs to receive.”

He’s not getting either from Felix, but he follows him to the training grounds anyway.

It’s, unsurprisingly, deserted. It’s a celebration, after all. Nobody’s in their fancy clothes looking to swing an axe or stab a lance.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Claude inquires once the door shuts behind him.

“I have to see him again and I’m…  _ nervous. _ ” Felix says the word like it physically pains him to do so.

“See who?” Claude asks, deliberately playing coy.

“Don’t be an idiot, von Riegan. You know damn well who I’m talking about.” He should’ve expected this to be hostile. It’s  _ Felix. _

Claude sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How much do you know?” 

“What is there to know? His old man had a heart attack and he’s had to assume responsibility for the first time in his life.”

Oh  _ Goddess _ , Claude doesn’t want to be the one who has to tell him. “He’s married. He’s bringing his wife today.”

“He said he wasn’t… That he  _ wouldn’t _ .”

“It’s the same girl he spurned to be by your side. She’s fine with being in a loveless marriage as long as he gives her a baby.”

Felix’s grimace looks nauseated. “He said…”

“He’s still in love with you. How could he  _ not  _ be? He announced it in front of his parents and betrothed and the Goddess.”

“I’m in love with him too,” Felix admits. “I thought… I thought he’d wait for me.”

“I’m sorry, Felix,” Claude genuinely says, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be,” he says, shoving Claude’s hand away. “You get to be happy. You get to share your love with the person who loves you back. I bet you never even fight.”

The closest they came was after Claude took Yousef’s hand, when Byleth said he made him look like a coward. He’s only ever heard him angry when he was arguing with the royal council. Claude feels like they’re bound to have an argument at some point, but everything is smooth so far.

“It’s not all great. We can’t even be open with our affections. You have no idea how desperately I want to hold his hand in public, but we don’t even get that. We have to be the king and the duke and nothing more.”

“He’d hate if he heard you call him a king.”

“Yeah, well, if the shoe fits,” Claude says every time someone points that out. “I love him so much, but I have to pretend I don’t.”

“At least he knows in private what you feel. Sylvain doesn’t know. Dedue doesn’t know how Dimitri feels.” Felix clarifies, “He said he told you when Sylvain and I caught you kissing.”

“That was the only time we kissed, I swear. It was before I realized my feelings, so it wasn’t as much about forbidden love on my end. It was just Dimitri kissing the closest warm body.”

“He and I had sex,” Felix admits awkwardly. “Like Kyphon and Loog before us, the king copulated with his most trusted advisor.”

“That’s not in the stories,” Claude says with a snort. “Are you serious?”

“There are love letters in Blaiddyd and Fraldarius possession. I have a suspicion my father and Lambert kept to tradition when they were younger.”

“Oh, wow. Interesting that it’s… That’s…” Claude’s at a loss at what to say.

“It wasn’t quite what either of us hoped. It was obvious we’d both rather be with someone else.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. I’d always sort of slept around, but it got  _ bad  _ once I realized I was stupidly in love with Teach. I just went out and had a ton of meaningless sex because I figured, fuck it, there’s no way it’ll ever happen with him. At least you did it with someone you trust.”

“Imagine even five years ago saying I trust the  _ boar _ ,” Felix sneers.

“Imagine saying you’d confide in the former king of Almyra who happens to be your dumb classmate Claude.”

“Do I still tell Sylvain?”

“Yes. You’re just hurting the both of you by holding back. He bared his soul, so it’s only fair you do the same.”

“Fine.” Almost as if it’s like pulling teeth, he says, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Duke Fraldarius.”

“You’re a buffoon, Duke Riegan.”

—

Felix is by his side when Claude runs face-first into a tall ginger’s shoulder. He’d assumed they’d have a bit more time before they found Sylvain, but fate has other ideas.

“Mr. Margrave!” Claude exclaims awkwardly. He looks up at Sylvain’s face and down to his wife’s.

“My dad is bedridden, not dead. Not a margrave yet. Elsie, you remember Claude, right?”

“He’s the one who concealed you after you abandoned our wedding.”

“Yep, that’s me,” he says uncomfortably.

“Hey, uh, Fe—Felix,” Sylvain greets, pale as a sheet. “You’re, uh… Hi.”

“Elsie, have you ever met Byleth?”

“The king? No, never.”

“I’ll take you to meet him! He’s my best friend, you know? We can leave Felix and Sylvain to awkwardly stare at each other and not talk.”

Felix very subtly gives Claude a middle finger and Sylvain looks at Felix, looking emotionally constipated with hearts in his eyes.

—

Arturo Lonato Ubert Gaspard is just about the cutest baby Claude’s ever seen. He’s chubby and adorable and loves to grab onto Claude’s earring. He looks the perfect blend of his parents, deep skin with freckles, silver-blue hair, a permanent smile on his face.

“Do you think you’ll ever have kids?” Ashe asks him. 

Claude actually doesn’t know the answer. He and Byleth obviously can’t have one naturally, but the topic hasn’t exactly presented itself. They don’t even live together. What kind of life would it be for a child to bounce back and forth between Garreg Mach and Derdriu?

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t see a need to pass on my Crest.”

“He has Hapi’s,” Ashe says. “She was a little disappointed. She was experimented on because of hers.”

“I remember hearing that,” Claude says with a nod. “In his case, he has the two of you to protect him. He’s a lucky little guy.”

Ashe smiles as the baby coos at Claude. “He sure likes you.”

“I have twenty siblings. We weren’t close, but I spent a lot of time around babies. I like to think I know how to hold ‘em.”

“Twenty?!”

“Ten brothers, ten sisters,” he confirms. “All on my dad’s side. Almyran kings practice polygyny and my dad had eight wives. I’m the only child of my mom’s, so my siblings are all half-siblings.”

“Wow. I don’t even know what to say to that. I have a younger brother and sister and my late adoptive older brother. Sometimes that feels like a lot.”

“I was only ever close to my eldest sister. At least until her mom decided I was too different to be friends with.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was a long time ago. She succeeded me as queen and now I’ve got all of you as friends. My new brothers and sisters. Ones who love me for who I am.”

Ashe puts an arm around Claude in a hug that doesn’t squash the baby. “I’m glad to have you as a friend. And I’m glad my son has his fun Uncle Claude.”

Claude beams. He doesn’t necessarily need kids of his own. His friends are going to have plenty, he can tell. He can be quirky Uncle Claude.

—

Byleth invites Claude to dance at the modest feast. He extends a hand and Claude graciously accepts.

They’ve got it down by now. They trade off leading, they can spin and twirl and dip. They also slow dance. It doesn’t necessarily fit with the music all the time and it’s not  _ quite  _ appropriate in front of others, but Claude likes to be close to him. They can also dance in the Almyran way, a little less structured and a lot less stuffy.

It’s a subdued waltz this time, Claude leading as they make their way across the dancefloor.

“Hey,” Byleth says, “haven’t seen much of you today.” The only time is when Claude introduced Elsie. Otherwise it’s been a long day of mingling.

He misses him so badly all the time. It hasn’t even been a whole month since they last saw each other, but Claude’s bed has felt so cold without Byleth in it. He finds himself building a mound of pillows to cuddle with in lieu of his boyfriend. He’s even started to light candles for his morning meditation that have the same scent notes as Byleth’s soap. He’s a yearning, lovesick fool pining for a lover he can only see once in a while. He could always jump on Hilal and be in the Garreg Mach stables in less than two hours, but there’s never a guarantee that Byleth will be available.

He savors this moment, his most adored person in his arms as they dance alongside their old friends.

—

Claude and Byleth have taken their dancing to the courtyard outside the academy, happy to be away from the crowd for a moment of respite. It’s great to see their friends again, but Claude wants to dance with Byleth the  _ right  _ way. He wants to rest his face against his neck and let Byleth stroke his hair and that’s what he gets.

“You look so handsome tonight,” Byleth says as he runs his fingers through Claude’s hair. “So, so beautiful.”

“You’ll make a fella blush if you keep saying things like that.” He  _ does  _ blush, but his face is concealed from view.

“I mean it. You always look handsome, but seeing you all dressed up is a special treat.”

“You look great too, by the way,” Claude says, pulling his head up to look into his eyes. “So great.”

Byleth leans in and kisses him, a gentle kiss. Claude goes weak in the knees, his lips falling open to allow Byleth’s tongue into his mouth. He takes the initiative to deepen the kiss and Claude kisses back hungrily as Byleth’s fingers grasp his hair, holding him in place in the all-consuming kiss.

Eventually Byleth relents, saying, “I promised I’d give a toast.”

“Alright, then,” he says with a sigh. “We can make out as much as we want later.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

—

Teach’s speech is heartfelt and brilliant. Honestly, it was worth missing making out with his boyfriend.

As the revelry dies down, Byleth makes sure to thank everyone for coming and happily embraces his students as they leave for the inns in town. Ingrid and Raphael are right after them, thanking their friends for sharing in this important moment.

“Leaving soon, Claude?” Raphael asks during a lull in the exodus.

“I’ll probably stay to hang with Teach for a bit. He’s stopped being afraid of my wyvern, so I might take him to the stables to say hello before I leave.” As if he’d leave without spending the night.

“He’s afraid of wyverns? No wonder he wanted to keep me on a pegasus,” Ingrid says with a laugh.

“The first time I took him on a wyvern ride was during the war. Hilal had finally healed from a foot injury and I heard rumors of a treasure of the saints in Sreng, so I hopped on without a saddle and flew us to Sreng. I had bruises on my sides where he held on tight.”

“How precious,” Ingrid chuckles. “He’s really a good man.”

“The best,” Claude says, certain he has hearts in his eyes as he looks in his direction.

—

**_Day 19 of the Guardian Moon, Year 1189_ **

**_It’s just after midnight._ **

Claude von Riegan has never given a blowjob.

Claude, for all his experience and worldliness, has never done this. He’s never gone down on anyone. He’s had guys fuck his mouth before, but that’s different. He wasn’t putting in any effort beyond relaxing his gag reflex.

He’s never given a blowjob, but he’s going to tonight. He’s resolved to do it and he knows that Byleth will indulge him in experimentation. 

He means to be a lot more eloquent about his request, but it comes out as soon as they’re alone in Byleth’s room as: “Can I suck your dick?”

Byleth does that adorable little head tilt and shrugs. “Sure.”

Claude ponders what position would be best for this and decides he wants Byleth to sit on the edge of the bed while he falls to his knees.

He likes the way Byleth’s cock settles in the back of his throat, the way it’s too much to take in all at once, the way he has to stroke and squeeze the remaining length.

He takes direction very well, possibly better than he ever did as a student. When Byleth hisses  _ too much teeth _ , he makes that correction and earns a pleasured groan in response.

Claude moans around the thick length as Byleth slides his fingers into his hair and gives a gentle tug. He has drool and precome dribbling down his chin. It’s hot as holy hell. He swears, what this man does to him…

He wonders what the Church of Seiros would think of the way Byleth’s hips twitch as Claude’s tongue draws up the vein on the underside of his cock, the way it forces him further down Claude’s throat. Byleth apologizes for the choking sound that results, but Claude doesn’t slow down in the slightest.

“ _ Fuck, Claude _ ,” Byleth keens as he tugs Claude’s hair, drawing another gagging moan out of him. “I’m about to—”

Byleth is warning him to stop before he comes. In his own hubris, Claude ends up with it half across his cheek and half in his hair, coughing and laughing.

“You okay?” Byleth asks breathlessly.

“I’m fine, believe me. Wow, guess the Almyran council wasn’t wrong when they said I’d get down on my knees for you,” Claude says as he laughs. He rises to his feet and softly kisses his lover. “That was a lot of fun.”

“Do you need some help with that?” Byleth says, using his thigh to nudge Claude right where it aches. His entire body is positively throbbing with desire, but there’s only one thing he wants right now.

“Fuck me once you can get it up again, alright? I’ll leave you to recuperate while I clean your come off my face.”

Byleth still isn’t quite ready once the sticky substance is off his face and out of his hair, so they take the opportunity to open Claude up for the impending boning of a lifetime.

Claude is buzzing, so ready to go, so ready to be taken by the man who has taken his heart. As much as he enjoyed going down on Byleth, he’s desperate to be fucked and claimed, crying out in pleasure as Byleth finally slides inside him.

Byleth has excellent intuition, knowing exactly what Claude wants. Maybe not going  _ quite  _ as hard as Claude wants, but he isn’t being as delicate as usual. Still, Claude feels his love in every thrust, in every biting kiss, in every bit of pressure from Byleth’s fingers.

“Mm, you…  _ Ah, _ you…” Claude mumbles as Byleth leaves biting kisses on his collar. “So good.”

“Fuck, Claude,” Byleth moans against his skin. It sends a lightning bolt down Claude’s spine to hear him so wrecked. He loves it when he can tell Byleth is enjoying himself. It’s why he decided to go down on him. Byleth is always so concerned with making Claude feel good that hearing him sound so affected is beautiful. “I love you.”

Of course he tells Claude he loves him. He has to inject a little tenderness into everything, doesn’t he? “You—you too,” Claude manages between shaky breaths. 

Everything is overwhelming and he can feel himself getting a little lightheaded and then he’s coming  _ hard _ , getting himself in the chin with the sheer force. Is he just destined to have jizz on his face tonight?

The lightheadedness has subsided in favor of his brain just straight-up turning to mush, everything going a little fuzzy as he relishes in the continued stimulation, enjoying himself far too much, still gasping and panting for breath as Byleth’s thrusts go erratic. He kisses Claude lovingly and he comes deep as he possibly can inside him. Claude loves that feeling.

He throws his arms around Byleth’s neck to pull him in closer as they share delicate and loving kisses. Claude loves these moments, lying there entwined after making love. Sex is great and all, but there’s something so special about feeling like your heart is attached to someone else’s.

Byleth abandons him momentarily to find something to clean up with and he returns several moments later with a damp washcloth.

He’s gentle in the way he cleans them up, a severe contrast to the way Claude wanted to be fucked hard.

“I left bruises,” Byleth says sadly, running his fingertips over the finger-shaped bruises on Claude’s sides.

“No, that’s okay. It’s kind of what I wanted,” Claude assures him. “Sometimes I like it rough. Maybe I should’ve been clearer about that and I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the one who hurt you.”

“It doesn’t hurt, I promise.”

“I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. Please, Byleth, it’s fine. I like it. They’re little reminders that I’m yours.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

Byleth still looks unsure, but he gives Claude a kiss. “Tell me if I’m being too rough.”

“I will. It’s not like we do this often. Normally it’s so tender and loving, which I love. Sometimes it’s fun to shake things up. Like the blowjob. Shaking things up.”

“I was surprised to enjoy that. I’ve been afraid of taking more passive roles sexually. I think it must have something to do with that man hurting me when I was young. That sort of thing doesn’t happen without leaving a scar, even if I can’t really remember.”

He was afraid, but agreed to it because Claude asked. Claude is overwhelmed with affection and kisses Byleth yet again, a wordless thank you and reassurance. “You can tell me ahead of time if something is too scary. I’m not going to judge you,” Claude informs him.

“Okay. I will take note of that, but I trust you completely. I feel safe with you.” Claude knows he’s telling the truth because Byleth doesn’t lie. Sure, he teases and wields sarcasm adeptly, but he’s too earnest to outright lie. He feels safe with Claude and that makes Claude feel happy. He himself feels safest when he’s in Byleth’s arms.

“I feel safe with you too. I think that’s what love means; having someone who makes you feel warm and safe.”

“I certainly feel both of those right now,” Byleth says, snuggling up beside Claude and pulling the duvet over them. He leaves a kiss behind Claude’s ear and sighs dreamily. “I love you to death, Claude von Riegan.”

Claude smiles, bringing one of Byleth’s hands to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “I love you too, Teach.” Teach, that mysterious stranger, the odd mercenary that got roped into teaching, is undoubtedly the dearest person in the world to Claude. He falls more and more in love with him as the days go by.

—

Claude watches and listens as Byleth gets ready to start his day. Claude has absolutely nowhere to go, so he’s happy to luxuriate in bed as his boyfriend talks about trade routes with Albinea.

Honestly, he’s just waiting for him to stop talking so he can kiss him. He’s waiting very patiently.

“You’re not even paying attention,” Byleth accuses with a soft smile on his lips. He knows exactly what Claude is aiming for and leans in so Claude can meet him with a smooch.

“I love you,” Claude says with a grin before kissing him again.

“I have to go fulfill my duty as leader of Fódlan, my beloved. Feel free to stay here as long as you want. My home is yours if you want it to be.”

Claude blushes and nods. He wants so desperately to share a home with Byleth, but it feels as if that’s something they’ll never get.

Byleth gives him one more kiss before leaving Claude alone. He’s not tired despite the night’s activities, so he figures he may as well get out of bed and get ready for the day.

Before dressing, he looks in Byleth’s full-length mirror to take stock of the marks on his body. Sure enough, there are the bruises Byleth was so concerned about on his waist and hips. The biting kisses left marks on his neck and collar and chest. His body looks like a battlefield and it makes Claude feel loved, oddly enough. He’s had some of these marks before, left by strangers, and they felt like a reminder of dirty shame, but these are special. These are marks that claim him for a man who loves him. It’s hot and sweet at the same time.

Claude smiles as he pulls on his clothes. Something with a high collar going up the neck is necessary for the day, lest people talk. He has to sneak to the stables to get Hilal to take him home, but there’s no guarantee he won’t run into someone he knows on the way there.

—

“Claude von Riegan.”

Claude spins on his heel to see Lysithea behind him. Her arms are folded across her chest and she looks accusatory.

“You never went home last night,” she states.

“Yeah, Teach and I were reminiscing and fell asleep,” he half-lies. They  _ did  _ spend a while reminiscing when they danced in the courtyard and they  _ did  _ fall asleep. “Don’t you have a class to teach?”

“I gave them the day off.”

“Just to confront me?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s not interesting, Lysithea,” he lies.

“Are you having an affair with the professor?” He gestures for her to follow him to Hilal’s stall. “Is this confirmation of my theory?” she asks, her tone far too smug.

“No, it’s not. I just don’t want you spewing off your crazy theories in front of everyone and their mother.”

“Claude, you don’t have to lie to me. I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “No, I’m not having an affair with the professor.” 

He’s not usually such a blatant liar. Sure, he lies by omission constantly — that was sort of his brand when he was at the Officers Academy — but he doesn’t outright lie too often. This is his biggest secret and it’s not just his secret either. He and Byleth together get to choose when and where to tell people. Sylvain, Felix, Seteth, Mercedes, and his mother are the only ones who know. Felix only knows because Claude just assumed he was unconscious and Seteth and Mercedes only know because they walked in on them kissing. Claude’s mom knows because she’s the one who gave him the necessary information to realize he’s stupidly in love. The only person they actually  _ told _ is Sylvain. Sylvain Jose Gautier is the only person they trusted enough to purposely share their biggest secret. That’s actually hilarious.

Lysithea takes a step closer to Claude and pulls down his collar. “And who gave you all these hickeys?”

Claude blushes  _ wildly. _ “I got too close to a candle.”

“Claude.”

“Fine, fine,  _ fine _ ,” he says, batting her hand away from his shirt. He straightens it back up and sighs. “It’s been going on for… about two-and-a-half years.”

“Since you were a king?”

“Yeah. We’ve just had stolen moments. It was difficult long-distance until I came back to Derdriu, when it just turned into a shorter long-distance. We’re both often busy, so it’s not like we’re constantly seeing each other or anything, but we can send love letters without fear that my brothers will intercept them.”

Claude takes stock of how long they’ve  _ really  _ been together. Two-and-a-half years feels like such a long time to some, but it’s barely anything for them. Time just slips through his fingers like water. Most couples have so much time together that everything sort of runs together, but Claude remembers vividly every time they’ve spent time together, every snuggle, every time they’ve been intimate (which, as of last night, he can no longer count on two hands), every time they’ve held hands, every time they’ve had to jump apart to avoid being caught.

“Love letters?” Lysithea asks with a grin.

“For someone who was emotionally illiterate for so long, he is a lot better at love letters than I am.”

“That’s sweet,” she says, that smile still dazzling. “I’m sorry I ambushed you.”

“That’s fine,” he assures her. “We’re just cautious about this. It’s a bit scandalous.”

“My lips are sealed. Promise.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been properly introduced to your wyvern.”

Claude beams, always eager to talk about wyverns.


	20. Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and Felix get their act together. Claude and Byleth reach a milestone in their relationship amid tragedy.

**_Day 5 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1174_ **

**_The air is sweltering._ **

At some point, the royal weddings need to cut down on extravagance, right? This is his father’s seventh wife, give it a rest already. There was already a huge celebration last month after the birth of baby number twelve. There doesn’t need to be some massive party whenever the king gets married or busts a nut in one of his wives.

As crown prince, he’s expected to partake in the festivities, even expected to be a part of the ceremonial aspects.

Honestly, he feels bad for his mother. She left Fódlan to marry the man she loves and he just keeps marrying other women. She probably had no idea that would happen or she would’ve just stayed in the Leicester Alliance, right? Nobody wants to be in love and have that person marrying and fucking and impregnating other people. He’s always wondered why he doesn’t have any full-blooded siblings, but maybe that’s why. Maybe she fell out of love with him and just has to keep up appearances. That’s why she doesn’t interfere with the harsh punishments,  _ right _ ?

Nobody cares that he sulks in the corner for the entire reception, save for his mean brothers mocking him for fun. 

He hates weddings. He’s never having his own.

— 

**_Day 13 of the Garland Moon, Year 1190_ **

**_The sun shines happily._ **

“Leave it to Lorenz to have his wedding on his birthday,” Claude remarks to Ignatz, who laughs joyously. “Always has to be about him.”

Byleth is in Morfis and can’t make it to Lorenz and Leonie’s wedding, though he left his regards in the form of a bauble of Jeralt’s and a cake baked by Mercedes and the kitchen staff at Garreg Mach. It’s made it to Gloucester unscathed, which is an act of Mercedes’s magic both figurative and literal.

Leonie finally decided to settle down, though he’s told it took a lot of convincing on Lorenz’s part.

“When are you going to get married?” Ignatz asks. 

He gets this question every time one of their friends gets married. Since Ingrid and Raphael, he’s been to three weddings — Marianne and Ferdinand, Cyril and Lysithea, and now Lorenz and Leonie. He never knows how to answer Ignatz’s question. He’s pretty sure he’ll get married  _ eventually _ , but not to someone expected of him.

“Not sure. My date to this wedding is my mom,” he says with a laugh, pointing to her talking to Balthus and Judith. “She’s moved back to Derdriu. With me in Fódlan and my dad dead, she had no reason to stay in Almyra. She missed me.”

“I miss you too. I like when our friends get married. It gives us all an excuse to get together and hang out like the old days.”

Claude’s heart flutters. They’re his family, so much more than his actual family. He hugs Ignatz and pats him on the back.

“I miss you guys so much. I wish we could all go back to Garreg Mach and redo school since we never  _ did  _ graduate,” he jokes.

“You really think the professor wants another year of Lorenz?”

They share a laugh, maybe a little mean-spirited. Lorenz  _ does  _ get kind of irritating after a while. Good luck with that one, Leonie.

“What are we talking about?” Hilda asks, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders. She looks absolutely stunning today. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s sworn off men, he’d expect her to be courting a husband. She’s dressing for herself, though, confidently and beautifully.

“Oh, we’re just talking about how obnoxious the groom was during school,” Ignatz admits.

“School was so great.”

“Of course you thought so. Everyone else did your work,” Ignatz teases.

“I think a more pressing question is  _ when  _ is our duke going to find a wife?” she asks with a grin.

“This question again,” he groans.

—

Sylvain looks odd without his wife by his side now. They’ve divorced over his feelings for Felix, feelings that are known to be reciprocated after Ingrid and Raphael’s wedding, though they’re both too scared to take things further than fleeting glances at various gatherings.

“Why are you here and not with him?” Claude asks as Sylvain sticks to his side.

“What?”

“Take him to make out in a broom closet.  _ Now _ .”

“I’m not even sure I’d do it right.”

“Sylvain, you were the world’s biggest slut when we were younger. I think you know how to kiss.”

“Yeah, well… I don’t know how to kiss boys,” he says quietly.

“Do you want me to give you a tutorial?”

“Would the professor be okay with that?” Sylvain asks hesitantly.

“He’ll probably laugh about it. C’mon, let’s go find a broom closet.”

Once they find said broom closet, Sylvain leans in for a kiss and Claude smacks him across the face.

“Kissing a boy is just like kissing a girl, you idiot,” he says. “Stay here, I’m going to find Felix.”

“Claude!” Sylvain cries pitifully. “You’re such a jerk. I love you.”

Claude rolls his eyes and blows him a kiss. Sylvain catches it and shoves it in his pocket.

He finds Felix rather easily. He’s sulking in a corner, glaring at ‘the boar’ and his Duscuri shield. They must’ve gotten into a fight over something. They’re friends again, so that must be it. They’ve slept together and shared some of their deepest secrets, so there’s the trust there again. He’s probably just annoyed about something.

“What’s wrong?” Claude asks, putting an arm around Felix, who very quickly shoves it away. 

“Dimitri is considering marrying some girl from Sreng to solidify the alliance. How could he do that when he’s so in love with someone else?”

“Ah. You’re annoyed on Dedue’s unknowing behalf.”

“Yes. I suppose you could put it like that.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you that  _ might  _ take your mind off of being annoyed with Dimitri.”

“I have no reason to trust this surprise won’t be related to Lysithea and wedding cake.”

“She’s not going to force sweets on you anymore. I promise. This is a  _ good  _ surprise.”

Of course, Felix doesn’t see it that way when Claude shoves him into a closet. He pulls up a chair and sits down in front of the door so they can’t open it.

“Talk about your feelings or else,” he threatens.

“Is he serious?” Felix grumbles.

“He is. One-hundred-percent. Don’t put anything past him. He’s listening to us to make sure we talk about it.” Sylvain is right on the money. He’s not moving until they talk about their feelings or start making out. He’d prefer the former because the latter would just cause more emotional constipation in the long run.

“Talk about what?” 

“You know.  _ It, _ ” Sylvain says sheepishly.

“Sure, fine. I’m in love with you and it’s embarrassing.”

“Why is it embarrassing?”

“I’m not good with…  _ feelings _ .”

“I’m not either. I’m all over the place and you’re nowhere. We’re opposite ends of the spectrum here. Felix, I’m in love with you and, honestly, it’s embarrassing for me too. I humiliated myself in front of my parents by telling them I love you and you spurned me. I asked my wife for an annulment because I was too hung up on you.”

“Seriously?” Felix scoffs.

“As a fucking heart attack, Felix. I want to hold your hand and look into your eyes and ask you about your day and then I want you to do the same. I just want to love you and be loved by you.”

“Sylvain, I don’t know if we can do that. It’s illegal for us to even—”

“Don’t cite that bullshit. You realize our king is in love with  _ Claude _ , right? The man who took over the Church of Seiros is in love with a guy. Don’t try to use that as an excuse. Stop trying to find excuses for why you can’t feel. Don’t cite archaic laws or your dad or Glenn or Dimitri or any other reasons you find to deny yourself of good things.”

“Oh, so you think you’re a good thing?” There’s a tinge of amusement in Felix’s tone that bodes well.

“I mean, not me  _ specifically. _ If you were in love with someone else that’d be a good thing too. Love is a good thing.”

“Love with you is better.”

“Obviously,” Sylvain says with a self-conscious laugh. “I’ve been in love with you such a long time, Felix.”

“I… I’m in love with you too, Sylvain. Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Y—yes, I would. Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re welcome,” Claude says, standing up and moving the chair. 

“Fuck off, von Riegan,” Felix mumbles, presumably against Sylvain’s mouth.

That went better than expected. Claude had honestly expected Felix to strike like a cornered cat and try to push the door open. He had expected more hostility.

That’s about the best outcome he could’ve asked for. Felix asked Sylvain on a  _ date _ and he said  _ yes _ when Sylvain asked to kiss him.

He smiles as he returns to the party. He can’t wait to tell Byleth next time he sees him.

—

**_Day 24 of the Blue Sea Moon, Year 1190_ **

**_The wind is whipping._ **

Claude doesn’t expect to see Byleth for his birthday. Albinea is on the verge of civil war not unlike Fódlan’s and Byleth and Dimitri are in Fhirdiad working on mobilizing troops for potential aid if necessary.

So while he doesn’t see Byleth on his birthday, Ignatz and Raphael make sure he has a nice, low-key party.

At the end of the night, as things wind down, Claude finds himself on the balcony outside the ballroom, staring up at the sky.

“I used to spend a lot of time out here during balls and the like.” He turns and sees his mother has joined him. “It’s nice to just get away and look at the stars and their reflection on the ocean.” She puts her arm around him and kisses his cheek. “I’m sorry he couldn’t be here tonight, my love.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine. He sent me a letter apologizing, but he didn’t need to. He’s a busy man. I knew that going into this. I’m never going to be his sole priority. He puts stuff to the back of his mind when we’re together, but it’s always there lurking.”

“Believe me, no matter how much he has on his plate, when he’s with you, you have his undivided attention. I was in your position for many years. Being in love with a king is something I have plenty of experience with.”

“He’s not a king,” he reminds her. 

She smiles and shakes her head. “He is in all but name. And you are his consort.”

“We’re not married,  _ mâmân. _ ”

“You are in all but name.”

“It’s different. I’m leading Leicester, he’s leading Fódlan in its entirety. We’re… we’re not ever going to be like you and  _ pedar. _ We’re not going to have a devilishly handsome son who feels unloved and alone for most of his life until he meets a mysterious stranger he’s going to fall in love with.”

“I’m sorry I ever made you feel unloved and alone, my sweet Khalid,” she says, brushing his hair out of his face. “Do you anticipate having a son with him?”

“I don’t know whether or not we’ll have kids. We can’t exactly knock each other up, right?”

“Khalid,” she says, sounding scandalized, “are you having premarital sex?”

“Absolutely not,  _ mâmân.  _ I only did that with strangers and sex workers, I swear.”

She chuckles, kissing him on the cheek. “I can’t wait to see your lover again. I really like that he makes you happy.”

He rolls his eyes at her calling him his  _ lover _ . “He really does… I like to look up at the sky, with him and without him. I used to do it because my dreams seemed small and achievable compared to the stars. Then I looked up at the sky with Byleth and it made me feel closer to him. I just have to look at the Blue Sea Star and imagine he’s looking up too. I did it a lot as king when I missed my best friend… Even before I realized I was  _ in _ love, I acknowledged that he was my first love. When we parted before I left for Almyra I told him. I said ‘I love you. With everything I am.’”

“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet. I can’t believe it took you that long to realize you meant it so much more.”

He blushes. “I’d never had a friend before. I thought it was normal. In retrospect, I’d been in love with him since he was my Teach. I fell in love with him when I asked him to dance at the ball and I fell further in love with him as we spoke in the Goddess Tower that night. It’s embarrassing that I thought I was just growing closer to a friend.”

“You had no metric to go by.”

“He fell in love with me during the war. We looked up at the stars and he told me that he used to stargaze with his father. It’s one of the only real memories he has of his childhood. He doesn’t have too many memories from before we met. He thinks it’s my influence, but it’s really Sothis reawakening inside him.”

“You say that and I’m supposed to believe it.”

“He was stillborn. Rhea put the Crest Stone of the Goddess in his chest and he lived. It’s actually a lot more complex than that, but that’s basically the gist of it. He has the heart of the Goddess in him. He’s basically the progenitor god and I’m just a guy, but he  _ loves  _ me. I still can’t believe it.”

“You  _ are  _ quite lovable, Khalid.”

He laughs, honest to goodness  _ laughs _ . He’s missed his mom. She hasn’t been like this since before he became heir, so open and affectionate and everything his father didn’t want her to be anymore. He’s missed this so much.

—

**_Day 8 of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1190_ **

**_There is not a cloud in the sky._ **

It’s Alliance Founding Day, which means it’s the fourth anniversary of his coronation. It’s still surreal to think he used to be a king and gave it up for  _ love _ . Nobody even knows that. They all think it’s because he fell in love with Fódlan as a whole, not because he’s in love with its ruler.

The Alliance has been absorbed into Fódlan as a whole, but Leicester still exists and deserves to be celebrated. Byleth also celebrates the Faerghus and Adrestia Founding Days.

They’re celebrating with a parade. Claude let his mother plan it, as she often did in Almyra. She hires dancers, musicians, horses and carriages and pegasi and wyverns. She shirks the stuffiness of Fódlan and embraces the celebratory extravagance of Almyra.

It goes in a loop around Derdriu, from the Riegan estate and all around to the docks and major landmarks in the city. It’s a celebration for the citizens, not for the nobles.

Claude beams when he sees Byleth arrive through the back entrance of the estate, pulling him in for a hug immediately, before he’s even in the door.

“Guess you missed me,” Byleth teases. 

Claude swats him in the chest and takes his hand, leading him to where his mother is fretting about her party and parade planning skills.

“Byleth, you remember my mom.  _ Mâmân _ , you remember Byleth.”

“Do I bow? What’s the protocol for a queen?” Byleth asks, completely forgetting everything he’s ever known about etiquette. 

“A mother-in-law takes but a kiss on the cheek.” 

As Byleth kisses her cheek, Claude blushes scarlet at his mother calling herself Byleth’s  _ mother-in-law. _ They’re not even engaged and she’s acting like they’re  _ married _ . To be fair, Byleth said he’d marry Claude in Brigid. It never happened, but it was an agreement they made that if they found themselves in Brigid…

They’re not even out. That’s something they need to do first, right? Unless they get married in secret and have to hide it. That’s not something either of them want.

They’ll talk once they’re alone.

—

“I received a few letters in the past week that I feel inclined to share with you,” Byleth announces once they’re all alone.

“Lay it on me, sweetheart,” Claude says, tossing himself onto his bed dramatically.

“Marianne and Ferdinand are expecting, for starters.”

“No shit?” Claude asks with a grin. “Good for them.”

“I think you might have something to do with the next one. I received a letter from Gautier. The margrave’s son would like my blessing to ask Duke Fraldarius to marry him.”

“That’s something I was planning on telling you about. I forced them to talk about their feelings by locking them in a closet.”

“It worked. You got Felix, afraid of feelings as he is, on the path to marriage.”

“They have to ask for your blessing because it’s illegal, right?”

“Not anymore. I signed the papers this morning. I’m sorry it took someone else asking for me to put quill to paper.”

“You’d never do it for yourself. You’d think it was an abuse of power.”

“I’m so transparent.”

“It’s okay, Byleth,” Claude says softly. “Will you fully legally cuddle with me until we have to get ready?”

Byleth smiles and crawls onto bed with Claude, curling up on his chest for a good snuggle.

—

The parade finishes its loop and the streets erupt into partying citizens, sharing food and laughs and revelry, regardless of color or creed or country of origin.

This is what Claude wanted. This is the world he fought for. Almyrans and Fódlanians and Dagdans and Duscuri. All living in harmony, celebrating for the sake of celebration.

“This is the Fódlan I envisioned,” Claude tells Byleth. “And here you are, by my side to see it.”

“I’ll always be happy to be at your side, but this is special,” Byleth says, his hand brushing against Claude’s. “May I kiss you?” 

Claude’s gaze snaps from his people to the man standing beside him. His smile fades from being elated to being frightened. Does Byleth really mean that? In front of  _ everyone? _

“Are you sure?”

“We’re within the year I promised, aren’t we?”

Claude is buzzing as he nods, mouth going a little dry. “You may kiss me.” This is happening. This is  _ happening _ .

Byleth smiles, but hesitates, likely as terrified as Claude is by this turning point in their relationship. They’re outing themselves, making this public. Byleth takes a deep breath and closes the gap between their lips.

It’s like the rest of the world falls away, the anxiety that coiled in his gut dissipated entirely with the touch of their lips. He runs his tongue over Byleth’s lower lip and they part just enough for Claude’s tongue to slip between them.

“Oh my goodness.” The kiss breaks as the previous Duke Riegan’s advisor sees it and says those three words.

“That was…” Claude says, struggling to form words. He’s not even sure what he means.

“It was,” Byleth agrees, knowing somehow what Claude means, with a brilliant smile. “May I kiss you again?”

“Please do.”

—

“Do you want to make completely legal love to me?” Claude asks once they’re alone in his chambers.

“I would greatly enjoy that,” Byleth says as he begins to undress Claude.

Once Claude is naked and reclining on the bed, he strokes himself to full hardness as he watches Byleth take his clothes off. Watching the man he loves disrobe is one of the most delightful things Claude’s ever seen.

Byleth’s pants are almost off when there is a loud, frantic knock on the door. Byleth immediately pulls his pants back up and tugs his shirt on as there’s yet another knock. Claude makes a mad dash to put on a dressing gown. This is a real boner killer. Thank the gods because it would be very awkward to deal with whatever this is with an erection.

Byleth opens the door just as a third knock is about to ring out, almost getting knocked in the chest.

Cyril is on the other side of the door and he looks apologetic. “There’s something real important. A messenger from Almyra just got here.”

That can’t be anything good, can it?”

—

“There’s been a coup d'état,” the messenger reports as a healer works to set his broken leg and arm and ribs and festering wounds in his side. Claude recognizes him as one of Safiya’s servants, Mehmed. His heart sinks.

“What exactly happened?” Byleth asks, fully out of boyfriend mode and into Ruler of Fódlan mode. That was a switch that flipped incredibly fast.

“It was awful. I’ll never get the screams out of my head… The queen was having a slumber party with her younger siblings. They’re all dead. The queen, her consort, all those children, the queen mother and several other dowager queens, the servants… I only survived by jumping out a window. I was able to limp my way to the stables and find a horse to ride to Fódlan’s Throat. If there’s anyone who can help, it’s you, King Khalid.”

“I’m not a king anymore,” he insists.

“You’re the only king we have!” Mehmed exclaims. “It was Prince Yousef and Prince Sina. I’d remember those faces anywhere. I was there when you took Yousef’s hand and King Byleth bested Sina in combat. They must be angry you skipped over them in the line of succession.”

Claude’s stomach churns. This is his fault. His family is dead because of him. Byleth senses his unease and takes his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Who all was at this slumber party?” he asks between two deep breaths.

“The queen and her husband. Prince Hakim and his wife and daughter. Queens Ranya, Bushra, Rasha, and Hannan. Then the younger siblings, Princes Hasan, Medhi, Naveed, and Amiri and Princesses Parmida, Atiya, Nasim, and Anaya. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of your siblings and the queens were gathered up and put on house arrest.”

“I’m lucky I left when I did,” Claude’s mother realizes. Nader is lucky he’s busy courting Judith. “Khalid, we can’t sit idly by while your brothers and sisters are massacred.”

“I know we can’t,” he says with a sigh. “Byleth, what do you want us to do?”

“We have Faerghus soldiers in Albinea, so we need the Adrestian military to stay put, but I’m going to call on you and Holst to muster the troops we need to retake your homeland. Riegan and Goneril should be enough, but I’ll convince Count Gloucester to have his people at the ready. I’m going to lead the Knights of Seiros personally.”

If this were any other situation, it’d be a turn on to hear him get so authoritative. But half of his siblings are dead. Literally, ten of his twenty siblings have been slaughtered like animals.

“I’m not stopping with his hand this time,” Claude says darkly. “I’m not stopping until he’s dead.”

—

**_Day 18 of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1190_ **

**_There is a calm before a storm._ **

It reminds him of the war. Hilda, Lorenz, and Leonie were naturally going to come with them, but Claude hadn’t expected half of his class to show up on his doorstep right before shipping out.

The major difference between now and the war is Sylvain  _ not  _ flirting with every pegasus knight who has the misfortune of entering his eye line. Instead he cuddles with Felix by the fire next to Raph and Ingrid, Cyril and Lysithea, Mercedes and Annette, Yuri and Balthus, Lorenz and Leonie, Catherine and Shamir, and Caspar and Linhardt.

Claude doesn’t mean to seem like a curmudgeon, but he’s irritated with other people being happy. His family is dwindling down to nothing and everyone gets to be happy with the people they love.

Even Byleth sitting beside him and holding his hand isn’t enough to keep him from stewing. Is this what Dimitri felt like every day? It’s no fucking wonder he wanted Edelgard’s head. All Claude wants right now is to tear his brother’s head off with his bare hands.

Claude pulls his hand out of Byleth’s and stalks off toward their tent, frustratedly kicking rocks as he goes.

Naturally, Byleth follows him. He’s a good boyfriend, of course he’s going to follow him. He doesn’t even have to hide the fact that he’s a good boyfriend. It’s gotten around that they kissed in front of the entirety of Derdriu.

“We’ll be on their doorstep tomorrow,” Byleth says. “Are you ready?”

“Ready to take Yousef’s damn head off.”

“You sound like Dimitri. Not in a good way.”

“I finally understand him… You met my little brothers and sisters. You know the lives they had ahead of them. They’re gone. They were massacred in the most brutal fashion and I can’t live with that. I can’t rest until they’re avenged. Otherwise I  _ will  _ be like Dimitri, talking to ghosts.”

“Is there anything I can do for you right now?” Byleth asks, gently touching Claude’s cheek with the tips of his fingers.

“Fuck me. Hard. Bend me over and ball my hair up in your fist and pull until I cry.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Claude feels his heart soften at the earnestness in Byleth’s voice. “The point of making love to you is to make you feel good. I don’t think I’d be very skilled at getting too rough. I think you’ve experienced just how rough I can get already.”

Ah, yes. The finger-shaped bruises. Byleth obviously still feels guilty about those. He shouldn’t have asked for what he just did. Now Byleth is going to feel like he isn’t doing enough and isn’t able to give Claude what he wants. 

“I’m sorry I can’t please you the way you want me to. I understand if you need to seek outside help for what I cannot provide.”

Wait,  _ what?  _ Is Byleth seriously giving him a pass to find someone who’ll fuck tears out of him? He’s so stupidly selfless and obviously Claude isn’t doing a good enough job of making him feel loved if he thinks he’ll  _ ever  _ want someone else.

“Hey, all I need is you. I swear. You’re the only thing I need. I don’t… I’m feeling self-destructive and I forgot who I was talking to. You actually have feelings for me and I’m an idiot for forgetting that. I swear to you, you are all I want. Just you.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. I want you and only you. Honestly, for me, anything goes, but I only want to do what you’re comfortable with. If you’re not comfortable hurting me, then that’s that. I don’t need anything or anyone but you. I want to be  _ your  _ husband someday, Byleth. Just yours.”

“Someday soon?”

“Yeah, the sooner the better,” he replies with a smile. That smile falters. “Losing half my family in such a bloody manner has made it clear that time is precious. I don’t want to wait all that long, okay?”

“Do you still have my mother’s ring?” Byleth asks.

Claude spins his bracelet around and pulls it out of the leather pouch. He presses it into Byleth’s hand, unsure of where he’s going with this.

Byleth drops to one knee and presents the ring. “Claude von Riegan, will you marry me?”

Claude feels like his knees are about to give out. He hadn’t expected an actual proposal  _ right now. _ Not right after a disagreement about Claude wanting to be hurt during sex.

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you,” he says, putting his hand in Byleth’s and pulling him to his feet. He winds his arms around Byleth’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss.

“We’ll have to have the ring resized,” Byleth murmurs against Claude’s mouth. “I’ll expect you to wear it on your finger.”

“Mhm,” Claude agrees, taking the ring to shove it back in its safe space before things get a bit too heated.

Before he knows it, Claude is stripped bare and reclining on his bedroll as Teach’s hot mouth envelops his cock. He bites his lip to keep from moaning in their small camp. Byleth might not be willing to hurt him, but he is going to  _ torture him. _ He finds that biting his lip isn’t enough to keep the noises at bay. He clamps a hand over his mouth as his eyes roll back into his head. 

He blacks out with pleasure until cool air hits his spit-slicked dick in the absence of his fiancé’s mouth. His  _ fiancé’s  _ mouth. Byleth’s mouth returns as a pair of oiled fingertips circle his rim before dipping inside him. Claude shudders at the dual stimulation, squeezing his mouth harder to keep quiet.

He’s experienced Byleth’s fingers inside him a dozen times before, but the addition of a never-before-seen blowjob? That’s almost too much. The sound of him slurping is actually sinful. That man should never be allowed in a church ever again. He will be though. He’ll probably marry Claude in one, just to shove it in the faces of people that will look down on their relationship as a sin. Claude never envisioned himself getting married in a church, but he’s marrying the leader of the Church of Seiros.

The persistent dick-sucking and prostate stimulation brings Claude to a blended orgasm that Byleth swallows without missing a beat. He is beyond relieved to take his hand off his mouth and inhale some of the night air.

“I know that’s not what you asked for, but was it good?”

“Better than what I asked for,” he decides, his hips still jumping of their own accord.

Byleth kisses up his body until he reaches Claude’s lips and moves to spoon him. “I’m glad.”

“Hold up, don’t you want a little help with that?”

“This was about you. I’ll be fine,” Byleth tries to assure him.

“Stop being a martyr and make love to me.  _ That’s  _ what I want now,” he says, knowing that’s exactly how to get what he wants out of Byleth. “I want you to come inside me. Mark me up from the inside. Make me yours. I want to ride out in the morning with your come dripping out of me.”

That’s about the dirtiest his talk has ever gotten with Teach and it seems to do the trick because Byleth starts taking off his clothes. Mission accomplished. Byleth almost always comes inside him anyway. Claude’s just never been so filthy about it.

He wasn’t  _ quite  _ prepared for this with just two fingers inside him before, but he’s not going to ask for reprieve. It’s slicked well enough that it’s comfortable after that initial stretch, perfectly snug inside him.

Luckily Byleth’s mouth is available to muffle his moans this time because he has fallen victim to Byleth’s relentless thrusts, finding himself awash in pleasure once again. He’s not quite hard again yet, but Byleth’s hand on his dick helps him get there. Fucking hell, he’s still trying to make it good for Claude rather than himself yet again. He is the exact opposite of a selfish lover and completely unlike any man Claude’s ever met. He’s stubborn in this regard, stubborn to the point that he makes sure Claude comes before he does himself.

“Goddess, I love you,” Claude declares with a kiss as they snuggle. “Can’t wait to be your husband.”

“And I can’t wait to be yours.”

—

**_Day 19 of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1190_ **

**_Tension fills the air._ **

Claude feels bile rise in his throat as Sina meets them at the palace gates. His siblings’ and stepmothers’ heads are on pikes adorning the walls. They did this. He had to look at baby Amiri’s tiny, dead face and he’s going to make sure his brothers die for it.

“Little Queen Khalid,” he mocks. “I should’ve figured your king would bring his troops at a snap of your manicured fingers.”

Claude jumps off of Hilal to look at his brother face-to-face. “I am no one’s queen. I am Duke Claude von Riegan and you slaughtered my family.”

“They were my family too.” 

“You realize that once Yousef has taken several wives and sired several kids, you’ll just be a loose end, right? Nobody needs the third son of a dead king.”

“Every king needs a trusted advisor. You could have used one, but nobody wanted to fill the role. Poor little Khalid, unloved and alone.”

Claude reaches out and grips his brother’s throat. The men behind him draw their swords, but Claude learned how to draw from Felix. The Sword of Begalta is through Sina’s gut before anyone knows what happened.

And thus begins the battle.

—

Claude gets separated from Teach in the heat of battle. It’s a bit dangerous knowing he can’t rewind time to save the people around Claude, but he needs to find his brother. This can’t end until Yousef is dead.

He’s covered in blood, both his own and not, by the time he finds Yousef cloistered in the throne room. He’s not cowering, but sitting on the chair Claude occupied many, many times.

“Fight me like a king,” Claude challenges.

“I would, but someone took my hand,” Yousef snarls.

“Are you too dumb to train with your other hand before starting a coup?”

“Are you too dumb to come with reinforcements?”

Claude knows he’s fucked if something goes wrong. He charged ahead without anyone behind him. It’s just him and Yousef now, but there might be guards that swarm him. He didn’t think that far ahead. Revenge clouded his mind. There’s no Teach to tackle him the way he did Dimitri as he made that mad dash toward the Imperial Army.

Claude can’t even think of a retort as a blade sinks into his back, then another, then another.

He can’t think of anything as the world turns black.

—

“The injuries are worse than mine were when I almost died.”

“He’s lost too much blood.”

Everything is fuzzy. He realizes immediately that he’s laying on his stomach in a pool of blood. He tries to raise his hand to grasp the words that float by him, but he finds he has no control over his limbs.

“What kind of coward…”

“I need to concentrate. Does anyone have an elixir?”

“Where’s the professor? He always has potions clanking around in his pocket for this exact reason.”

“He’s looking for the survivors.”

“Does he know?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t. He’d be here in an instant if he knew.”

“I can’t believe they’re in love.”

“I can. I’ve known for quite some time.”

“Isn’t it kind of weird? He used to be our teacher.”

“I need to concentrate. Hush.”

Claude recognizes the voices. Mercedes, Felix, Caspar, Lysithea, and Hilda. 

His back tingles with healing magic working deep into him all the way through in multiple spots. He can’t move his arms, but he tries to dig his fingers into the tile from pain. He’s in tremendous pain and the ache of healing magic is just amplifying the hurt. He passes out again.

—

**_Day ?? of the ????? Moon, Year ????_ **

**_?????_ **

The next time Claude awakens, he has control over his limbs at least. That’s something.

He tries to use his arms to sit up, but feels something tugging. Stitches.

“Nope. Lie down. Do  _ not  _ move.” Hilda. She must be in charge of watching him.

“Where am I?” he asks, feeling like his mouth is full of cotton. So dry.

“Infirmary of the royal palace of Almyra. I can’t believe you used to live here. It’s so  _ nice _ if you ignore the blood and dead people.”

“Can I get some water?”

“It’s all you’re allowed,” she replies, bringing a canteen to his lips.

He drinks greedily, desperate to slake his thirst. It does the trick, the canteen empty.

His eyesight is still a bit fuzzy, but he can tell he’s not alone. There are other dying people in the infirmary.

“Where’s Byleth?”

“He’s helping sort through bodies, deciding which ones to bring back to Fódlan for burial. It made me sick, so I was put on Claude duty.”

“What happened after I…” Was stabbed multiple times?

“Felix found you. He took your brother’s head for you. Said he didn’t want you turning into the boar. His words, not mine… I had to kill another brother of yours. Jamil. At least that’s who the professor said he was. Lysithea killed your sister Zarina to protect Felix and your sister Naila to protect Leonie.”

Ah, yes. Sina’s younger full-blooded brother. He’d do anything his brother asked. He wanted to be just like him when they were kids. Zarina and Naila were Yousef’s full-blooded sisters.

That leaves Imad as the eldest child of King Anwar, aside from Claude himself. The eighth child, he was never expected to sit on the throne, but he will. Apart from Claude, he’s the only prince left. He went from twenty siblings to five. One brother, four sisters.

“Your siblings want to see you, but Mercedes and Linhardt said you need to recover more before you have visitors. You should be dead. You lost a  _ lot  _ of blood when all those swords perforated you and an axe wound to your back shattered your ribs and cracked a vertebra. Linhardt was able to fix it, but you’ll probably get some aches and pains as you get older.” 

He glances down at his wrist and panics. “Where’s my bracelet?”

“The professor is holding onto it. He didn’t want it getting lost.”

“Good. It has his mother’s wedding ring in it. We’re going to have it resized because… he proposed.”

“Claude von Riegan!” she exclaims. She looks like she wants to swat him in the shoulder, but she doesn’t. “You’re going to marry  _ the professor? _ ”

“You can call him Byleth. He hasn’t been our professor in a decade.”

“Do you still call him Teach?”

“When I’m making fun of him. He’s let me call him Byleth since his dad died. That’s when I told him who I really am. When I told him my real name. Well, my  _ birth  _ name. I met my true family when I was Claude, so that is who I am.”

“King Khalid,” she teases. “Ooh, you’re going to be the king’s consort. Not his  _ queen _ , but I guess since you’re already a prince…”

“It’s still going to be Duke Riegan. It’s not going to change because I’m married to our fearless leader.”

“Oh, he has fears. You should’ve seen how red and blotchy his face was when he cried because he thought you were going to die.”

Claude’s stomach turns. He was worried enough to show that sort of emotion in front of  _ everyone? _ “Really?”

“Let me tell you, it was bizarre. For years he was just that stony-faced guy, so seeing him cry was crazy. I promise not to tell anyone, okay? We can’t shake that fearless leader persona.”

“How long was I out?”

“It’s been three days. Linhardt assumed you’d be out  _ way _ longer. Mercedes had hope for you.”

“Was anyone else in our class hurt?”

“Sylvain took an axe to the shoulder. Mercedes patched him up and gave him a sling, but Felix is fussing over him like a tiny mother hen.”

“ _ You  _ are calling someone tiny?” Claude asks with a laugh that immediately sends pain shooting through his entire body. “Oh gods, that hurts.”

“Can’t make you laugh. Got it. Cyril’s going to have an impressive scar on from his ear to his nose. Ingrid took out a wyvern that ended up falling on Balthus. He broke a few ribs. A bit of friendly fire. By the way, Ingrid tagged along despite being  _ pregnant. _ She’s nuts.”

“Is she okay?”

“She and Raphael are unscathed and ready to be the warrior parents they were destined to be. I’d be surprised if that baby comes out without a Crest. It’s clearly already strong.”

Claude smiles. “Don’t let Sylvain hear you talk about Crests being synonymous with strength.”

“He has a niece with a Crest. He was telling me last night that he found Miklan’s old flame and she has three ginger, amber-eyed, undoubtedly Gautier children. Two girls and a boy. He stuck up to his dad and said that the eldest is inheriting after him,  _ not  _ the girl with the Crest. Said that he doesn’t get to decide unless Sylvain dies first. Apparently the margrave just about had another heart attack.”

Imagine what’s going to happen when he tells the margrave he’s planning on proposing to Felix.

“Felix has a cousin with a Crest. He’s passing the shield off to them when he kicks it.”

“I’m just going to leave Freikugel to my brother. He has a Crest too and his girlfriend is pregnant. They’ll have a Crest baby.”

“You’re serious about not settling down,” Claude remarks.

“I love myself and I don’t need anybody else,” she says resolutely. “The Artisan Academy is the love of my life.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. I’m happy for you and the pr— for you and  _ Byleth. _ Nope, that feels weird. I don’t like it. I’m just going to keep calling him the professor. Is it weird that you’re having sex with your old teacher?”

“Who says we’re having sex?” Claude asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the millions of hickeys we saw all up and down your body when we took your clothes off to heal you.”

Claude flushes. “We barely see each other, so we go a little crazy when we do.”

“So  _ is _ it weird that he’s your former teacher?”

“No. He’s been my friend for a decade. It honestly doesn’t come up except when he has his little self-doubting ‘am I being unethical?’ moments. He has a lot of self-doubting. It’s the only relationship he’s ever been in. Hell, it’s the only relationship  _ I’ve  _ ever been in. Difference is, I was kind of a slut before entering this relationship. He was an emotionally illiterate, precious little puppy.”

“Aw, Claude took the professor’s virginity.”

He blushes even harder. “ _ Stop _ , Hilda.”

“Oh my Goddess, were you his first kiss?”

“No, I wasn’t. According to Jeralt’s journal, kids would take turns kissing him to see if he’d react. He didn’t, but that didn’t stop them from trying. Jeralt starting a fistfight with some kids’ dad  _ did  _ stop them from trying.”

“But you were his first kiss that he actually wanted.”

“Yes,” he admits.

“That is so cute! He might have been your professor, but you’re definitely his teacher.”

Claude rolls his eyes.  _ Goddammit, Hilda.  _ “He’s very intuitive. Remember when he learned how to throw an axe in less than a day just to teach you how?”

“Is he throwing axes in bed?”

“The equivalent, I guess?”

“Is the equivalent sucking dick?”

“This went off on a tangent real fast. We were talking about Relics,” he says, absolutely embarrassed to no end. She’s right though. He sucks dick like he’s getting paid.

“Any idea who you’ll leave Failnaught to? You and the professor can’t pass your Crests on to offspring, try as you might.”

Claude thinks. He knows Byleth is looking for a way for them to share a long-lasting life together, but thus far it hasn’t bore any fruit. He’d keep it for himself if he were to live a prolonged life. “I’ll probably leave it to Byleth when I die,” he says, thinking of the worst-case scenario.

“He’s going to be a wreck when that happens. I’m assuming with the Goddess’s Crest Stone inside of him that he  _ can’t _ die an organic death.”

“I don’t know. His mother died in childbirth and she had the Crest Stone in her chest. Technically she died when Rhea removed it to give it to her stillborn son, but both of them would’ve been dead if she hadn’t.”

“Is it like you’re having a three-way with the Goddess?” Hilda teases.

“ _ No. _ ”

“Is he even attracted to women? Are  _ you? _ ”

“I am. I never thought to ask him if he was.”

“Probably not. Like you said, he was emotionally illiterate, so you’re probably the only person he’s ever been attracted to.”

Claude had never considered that. He sure is a lucky guy. “He was emotionally illiterate, yet he knew he was in love with me before I realized I was in love with him.”

“When did you figure it out?”

“After I left for Almyra. I spoke to my mom and it turned out I was misinterpreting the signs. I’d never had a friend before I went to Garreg Mach, so I found myself thinking the signs were just symptoms of having a best friend.”

“Like what?”

“Butterflies in the stomach, constantly blushing, heart beating fast, dry mouth, feeling like I’d literally die without him.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Claude snorts, then regrets it for the pain it sends through his stab wounds. “Yeah, I know. He knew during the war. We stargazed next to his parents’ grave and then we retired to his room for tea and I said something I can’t remember, but he can rattle it off exactly because those words are the ones that made him fall in love.”

“I’ll have to ask him,” she says with a smile. “Remember when I said he’d never pursue a former student? I guess I was wrong.”

“There wasn’t a pursuit. I just told him I’m in love with him and he asked to kiss me.”

“Did anyone other than your mom know before that kiss in front of everyone and their grandmother?” she asks. Claude’s never witnessed her pay so much attention to anything in her life as she’s paying attention to their love story.

“We deliberately told Sylvain. I thought Felix was unconscious when I said something to Sylvain, but he was semiconscious and found out. Seteth and Mercedes walked in on us kissing in the Goddess Tower.”

Hilda grins at him. “Historians are going to write about the two of you. Slayers of the Fell King Nemesis who fell in love as they unified Fódlan and brought peace between Fódlan and Almyra.”

“I hope your artists make me look hot.”

“Oh, shut up. You  _ are  _ hot. All tan skin and green eyes and silken hair. Well, you’re not hot right  _ now _ . You look more than half-dead and you’ve got a bunch of your own dried blood in your hair and staining your skin. I think your boyfriend needs to give you a sponge bath.”

“Fiancé,” Claude corrects with a grin. “You’re the only one who knows right now. He only proposed a few days ago on the march here.”

“Aw, I’m the first one you told? That’s so… I love you, Claude. I’d give you a hug, but that might actually kill you.”

He wishes he could laugh, but he suppresses the urge. “I love you too, Hilda.”

—

**_Day 23 of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1190_ **

**_The weather is imperceptible from indoors._ **

It takes twelve hours of Claude complaining before Mercedes and Linhardt let him go to a private room to bathe. He, of course, can’t do much himself, but he likes it when Byleth washes his hair anyway.

It’s the first time since he’s woken up that he’s even seen Byleth. He looks barely alive with the glassy-eyed stare of someone who’s seen some shit.

“What’s wrong, love?” Claude asks.

“Edelgard never did anything like this. Even the crazed inhabitants of Remire didn’t do this. I… I thought I’d seen everything in the war, but it doesn’t even…”

Byleth is situated behind him so Claude can’t  _ see,  _ but he can hear the tremor in his voice and the crack as he starts to cry.

Claude doesn’t even know what to say. “I wish I could hug you,” he says sadly. He truly does.

“I have nightmares. When you’re not around, I have horrific nightmares about the war. Gronder in particular, but the entire thing. I’ve stayed strong because I have to, but I scream myself awake sometimes and I…” He sounds so utterly broken. “I spent time getting to know Atiya and Naveed and I saw their heads on pikes. Your brothers and their men  _ brutalized  _ those kids in a way I’ve never seen before. They killed so many of us. Sylvain will probably never have the same range of motion in his shoulder again. We were lucky that you were the most injured of our friends, as lucky as we can be when your heart stopped, but so many of our soldiers lost their lives.”

“My heart stopped?” Claude asks in horror.

“Mercedes figured out a way to activate your Crest to restart your heart. You would’ve been dead and I would have been so  _ lost. _ I don’t know who I am without you. I wasn’t anyone until I knew you.” Claude didn’t know he was  _ that  _ close to death. Hilda probably didn’t want to scare him by telling him that.

“C’mere, let me look at you,” Claude requests. Byleth’s hands leave his hair and he kneels down beside the tub to look Claude in the eyes. His hands are a soapy blood red. Claude reaches out to take one anyway. He can feel his stitches tug, but this is important to him. “I love you,” he says, putting Byleth’s hand over his heart. “You are the most important thing in my life. I let my inner boar take over and I almost broke the heart of the first person to love me properly. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I…” Byleth seems at a loss for words and kisses him instead. It’s a gentle, barely-there thing, as if he’s afraid Claude is fragile. He  _ is  _ a little bit fragile, but a little kiss won’t kill him. The little kiss makes him feel more alive than he has since coming back to consciousness.

“I had no idea you were so traumatized by the war. Why did you hide it from me?”

“I needed to be strong for all of you.”

“But from  _ me? _ ”

“I don’t experience it when I’m with you, so I thought it would be better if you didn’t know. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You don’t have to hide anything from me, my love,” Claude assures him, leaning in to press their lips together despite the protests of his stitches. He nips at Byleth’s lower lip before kissing him sweetly. “I can take whatever you can throw at me. Not physically right now, but figuratively I’m all over it.”

“Let me finish cleaning you up first, alright?” A snap of Byleth’s fingers heats the water back up and Claude hums happily at the warmth as hands return to his hair.

He’d almost forgotten how it feels to be clean. He, stupidly, didn’t bathe before leaving for Almyra so it’s been almost a week since he’s washed his hair or his body and now he’s caked in blood.

It feels good to be washed by another person. Byleth has bathed him before, but it was in a more sexy circumstance. He goddamn  _ wishes  _ Byleth could climb in with him and cuddle in the bath, but the idea of knees and elbows near his wounds is not at all appealing. So he just relaxes into the touch of the person who loves him most.

“Hey, love?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

—

Now that he’s nice and clean, Byleth helps him to the guest chambers he’ll be staying in while he recuperates.

Byleth sits on the edge of his bed and kisses his forehead. “Are you ready for visitors? Your brother and sisters want to see you.”

Claude nods, trying to hold back the tears that come when he realizes Amiri won’t be climbing on his bed and Nasim won’t ask him a million questions.

Eman is the first in the room. She’s the youngest survivor. Her mother and two full-blooded siblings are among the dead. Samira is right behind her, in the same boat. Her mother, the twins, and Hasan were all killed in the massacre. Imad, Ruana, Qimat, and their mother come in behind the two orphaned girls. Behind them are the mothers of the perpetrators, looking solemn and apologetic. Like it or not, they’re family and they’re grieving too.

Eman and Samira sit at the end of the bed cross-legged and looking at him like he has all the answers to all of their questions.

“What do we do now, Khalid?” Imad asks. He looks too young for 21. He’s too young for the burden about to be placed on him. Claude was 18 when he had to take over the Alliance, but being a duke is very different to being a king.

“You’re the eldest, so you’re going to be king,” he says.

“You’re not coming back?” Imad’s mother, Noura, asks.

“My place is in Fódlan. I can’t leave my people or my friends and I can’t leave the man I love,” he says, reaching out to take Byleth’s hand. Yousef’s mother scoffs, only to be elbowed by Sina’s mother for her rudeness.

“You had no problem leaving the people of Almyra,” Yousef’s mother says snippily.

“The people of Almyra openly hated me my entire life. Fódlan is the place I finally felt safe. It’s where I made my first friends and it’s where I fell in love. Let’s face it, I never would have worked out as a king. I’d have multiple wives and a few kids by now. I’d be miserable.”

“Samira and I were talking and we’d like to come to Fódlan with you. If that’s okay,” Eman quickly amends.

Claude looks over at Byleth, who gives him a smile. “Uh, absolutely. I could use some sibling bonding time.”

He’s going to have two teenage sisters running around Derdriu. This might be an utter disaster, but they’re all alone now. They were always each other’s best friend, so this is probably for the best with their mothers and siblings having been slaughtered in their home.

“We want to visit,” Ruana decides, holding Qimat and Imad’s hands. “Byleth came to visit us as a king, so Imad can visit Byleth as a king, right?”

“Absolutely. My door is always open,” Byleth says sweetly, not even caring that they keep calling him a king. Claude gives his hand a squeeze.

“I’m just thinking out loud here, but, love, what if I stayed here for a while to help Imad adjust to his new role? If that’s alright with you,  _ zanbâbâ _ ,” he says to Noura. “I don’t want to overstep my bounds and I know queen mothers can be quite picky over who they want in their son’s court.”

“Of course, my darling  _ nâpesari.  _ Imad wasn’t exactly groomed for the role of king as you were. The sixth son usually isn’t.”

“Here I was thinking I’d take up painting,” Imad says with a sigh.

“Kings can have hobbies. Nobody can kick up a fuss about it either. Except, of course, for the queen mother,” Claude says with a grin, looking at Noura again.

“Can we go with Byleth?” Samira asks. “I want to get far away from here.”

“Of course you can,” Byleth says. “If that’s alright with your brother.”

“No, I understand the urge to leave. You can go with him if you promise to behave.”

“We won’t let you down, Khalid,” Eman declares.

—

**_Day 26 of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1190_ **

**_It’s cold in Almyran context, still hot by Fódlan terms._ **

“Write to me as soon as you’re home, okay?” Claude says, fiddling with the hem of Byleth’s cape. 

“I will. Make sure you take a vulnerary whenever the pain starts. Don’t be a hero. You’re going to be in a lot of pain once Mercedes and Linhardt aren’t blasting you full of healing magic.”

“Yes, Mother,” he mocks, rolling his eyes. He leans over and presses his lips to Byleth’s. “Speaking of my mother, do  _ not  _ tell her how bad it was. Tell her I was injured, but if I find out you told her my heart stopped, the wedding is off.”

“I promise, but none of our friends are beholden to that same promise.”

Claude rolls his eyes yet again. “Tell her it wasn’t  _ that  _ bad.”

“Will do, my beloved  _ nâmzad _ ,” Byleth says before bringing their lips together again.

“Oh, and speaking of that, tell her she’s the first to know. It’d break her heart to know it’s Hilda.”

“Of course, my darling. I will count the days until I see Hilal’s wings over Garreg Mach.”

Claude’s heart is full of love as he bids farewell to his best friend and lover.

—

“When did you fall in love with him?” Imad asks, clearly not wanting to talk about rulership.

“I didn’t realize it until I was already king, but I started to fall for him the night of the ball. The Officers Academy at Garreg Mach has a ball every year and I asked him to dance with me. Then we spoke in the Goddess Tower and made a wish, as the legend goes. It was almost ten years ago now.”

“So you were younger than me?”

“I was, but I didn’t realize it until much later.”

“I’ve been seeing this girl for a few years. I was planning on asking her to marry me, but there’s a problem. She’s Dagdan.”

“Hey, our dad married my mother. Fódlan and Almyra were actively warring at that point. Dagda is far enough away that Almyra doesn’t have that sort of contentious relationship. Ask her to marry you. I’m sure she’ll say yes if she’s put up with you for a few years,” Claude teases before tipping a vulnerary into his mouth.

“Her name is Naava. She’s beautiful. I think you’ll like her. She reminds me a lot of Byleth, actually. Smart, kind, loving. She’ll be shocked to be a queen… I don’t want to take another wife. I just want her.”

Claude’s heart aches for his brother. He doesn’t want to be in this predicament either. “I know, Imad. Unfortunately, it’s going to be expected that the king will take many wives.”

“You didn’t take a single wife.”

“And I will go down in history as a king who did one major thing and then left, leaving my family vulnerable to a coup that killed half of my siblings.”

“Do you truly blame yourself?”

“How could I not?”

“They would’ve done you in just the same. People started making attempts on your life when you were just a kid, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, they did.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.”

Claude isn’t sure he’ll ever believe that, so he changes the subject. “You’re the king. If you only want one wife, nobody can tell you otherwise. The council will likely pressure the hell out of you, but you don’t have to give in. Don’t give in.”

—

“Is it allowed for you to be in love with a man?” Ruana asks over dinner.

“Only recently legalized in Fódlan. We were operating outside the law for quite a while. Byleth thought it’d be a selfish abuse of power otherwise, but then our friend asked for his blessing to propose to our other friend, so he signed a decree.”

“How romantic,” Qimat sighs. “You have a beautiful love story. I could see a play being produced. Though, to keep it tragic, they would likely have you remain in Almyra, pining for the man you love, knowing you could never truly be together.”

Claude blushes. “Thanks, I guess.”

“They’ll probably keep the tragedy about what already happened. How I ended up with one brother,” Imad remarks sadly.

Claude frowns and reaches over the table to take his brother’s hand. “We’ll make it through this. On my honor, we’ll make it through.”


	21. I Am My Beloved's and My Beloved Is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Byleth at a ball and a pair of weddings.

**_Day 24 of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1190_ **

**_It’s a brisk morning._ **

It’s barely daylight when Claude enters Byleth’s chambers.

He’s at his desk, but not for long because Claude physically picks him up and tosses him onto the bed.

“Happy birthday, love,” Claude murmurs before diving in for a long-awaited kiss.

Byleth is seemingly still processing what’s happening, but he eagerly kisses back, slipping his hands under Claude’s shirt, running his fingertips over the new scars there. Claude winces at the tenderness his wounds still carry, so Byleth keeps his touch to unblemished skin without having to be asked.

“Do you want me to ride your cock?” Claude asks in a husky voice. “I’ve been dreaming of doing it for weeks. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve come thinking of your dick lately? I want it everywhere. In my ass, down my throat, in my hand with mine.”

He’s never been  _ this  _ dirty with Byleth, but he’s horny beyond belief and he’s zeroed in on getting some dick. It’s almost embarrassing how bad he wants this. They’ve gone longer without seeing each other before, for fuck’s sake. 

“Y—yeah, you can ride me,” Byleth manages with a bashful laugh, shimmying his trousers down and off before doing the same with his shirt

Claude takes his pants off and retrieves the vial of oil from his pocket. He coats his fingers, inserting them in himself without preamble. Byleth is watching him intently, mouth hanging open the slightest bit in awe. He was likely doing work of some sort and Claude barged in, down to fuck. He didn’t even bother to lock the goddamn door, just singularly focused on getting in and getting intimate with his man.

It’s probably barely five minutes from the time Claude walked in to when he’s seated on Byleth’s dick, wantonly moaning as he bounces up and down.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Byleth murmurs. Yeah, he should’ve prepared himself a little more, but he needed this as soon as humanly possible. “Is that something people say?”

Claude chuckles because Byleth is still the most adorably clueless dirty talker in the world. He probably read it in one of Sylvain’s confiscated smut books. “Yeah, it’s good. So fucking good.  _ Ngh, fuck.  _ Swear I can feel you in my stomach.”

Byleth would probably apologize for some reason if he knew, but he definitely has the biggest dick Claude has ever seen. It’s massive and it’s all his to ride and fuck and suck and swallow as he pleases. He’s the only one who’s ever going to lay claim to it. Byleth is  _ his  _ and nobody else’s. 

Byleth gains a bit of confidence and starts fucking up into Claude to meet his motions. He’s been so fucking horny and now he’s getting what he wanted. He’s a man lost in the desert finding an oasis and drinking his fill.

He feels his climax creeping up in him, but he can’t stop. He can’t stop. He can’t— He has to— He leans forward and rests his hands on Byleth’s chest and it takes just one, two, three thrusts up into him for him to come harder than he has in quite a while, all over Byleth’s belly.

“Finish inside me. I need your come,” Claude pants, feeling absolutely spent, but still wanting to be fucked into the middle of next week.

Byleth uses his strong arms to lift him off of his dick and lay him on his back. He’s not expecting to have his legs on Byleth’s shoulders, but they are and he’s bent in half, knees by his ears, getting the deepest dicking he’s ever had in his life. 

His eyes roll back in his head and he groans in unfettered ecstasy as Byleth thrusts in deep. His breath feels like it’s being ripped from his lungs. The sounds Claude makes are just absolutely filthy as Byleth seeks his own release. For once, he’s not concerned with Claude’s pleasure, knowing he’s already gotten it. Now it’s about him and Claude thinks it’s about damn time.

He is  _ so _ satisfied with the shuddering orgasm that racks through Byleth’s body as plants his seed in Claude’s body. Claude’s almost disappointed when the time comes to pull out, though he’s glad to straighten his legs again.

“So, uh, nice to see you again,” Byleth manages once he flops over beside Claude.

Claude laughs and leans over to bring their lips together in a sweet kiss, a complete departure from the kind of fucking they just did. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Byleth says softly. “Are you feeling okay?”

“The pain comes and goes. Still downing vulneraries like crazy.”

“Did I hurt you just now?”

“Oh hell no. That was incredible.  _ You  _ are incredible. Were you doing anything important?”

“Just writing a letter to Petra,” he replies, dropping a kiss on Claude’s still-clothed shoulder. “She wants me to visit. I was telling her she should visit us for our wedding.”

Claude wiggles his ring finger in Byleth’s face. “I had it resized. Now I am officially your fiancé.”

Byleth grins. “The ring wasn’t necessary for the betrothal, but I get your point.”

“I love you so much. Do you want to get breakfast? I’m starving. I’ve worked up quite an appetite.” He winks at his lover who shakes his head and sighs, smiling all the while.

“I need to be honest with you, Claude.” Byleth can’t even meet his gaze. “I cheated on you.” Any sort of levity in Claude’s expression drops. It’s like he’s been stabbed with an icicle. Oh  _ Goddess, _ he had a small sliver of fear that he’d never be enough to hold down this tempest of a man. He’s not— “In a dream.”

Oh, he’s just being precious again. Claude smiles once more and leans in for a kiss that gets ducked away from. “It’s just a dream. It’s not like you’re going out and fucking other people, right?”

“I don’t even know why I had the dream. I’ve never been interested in anyone other than you. Only ever you. You’re just the only one.”

Claude lifts a brow curiously. He’d always wondered and it’s nice to have confirmation that, yes, he’s not attracted to anyone but Claude. It’s probably because he doesn’t have such a strong emotional attachment to anyone else. “Is it someone I know?”

“It was Hubert,” Byleth admits bashfully.

Claude actually gags. “That is so  _ foul _ ,” he says before dissolving into a laugh. “Who would fuck Hubert?”

“Apparently I would in my dreams.”

“That’s not a dream, that’s a nightmare. Ugh, that’s  _ gross. _ Now you have to make up for it by taking me to breakfast.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“I believe you when you say I’m the only person to whom you’ve ever been attracted. If that’s the case, I don’t have to worry about nightmare-Hubert leading you astray. You’re not going to find an evil, greasy goblin and take him to bed, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then it’s a non-issue. Cross my heart.”

Byleth still looks a little uneasy, but takes Claude’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “I love you, my beautiful golden deer.”

Any term of endearment from Byleth gets Claude’s stomach to fill with butterflies, but calling him his golden deer? That one hits differently. It’s who he’s always been. Byleth’s goofy house leader turned goofier fiancé. All that time, all that change, and it’s still the same. He’s Byleth’s golden deer.

“I love you too, Teach.”

The kiss that follows is somehow sweeter.

—

They hold hands at breakfast. Mercedes and Lysithea join them, engrossed in a conversation about her upcoming procedure to have a Crest removed.

“Hey, you two,” Mercedes says with a soft smile as she sits down. “I didn’t realize you were back, Claude.”

“Just got in this morning. I was going to head straight home, but I figured I’d visit my best guy first,” he says before giving Byleth a kiss on the cheek.

He likes being able to express his affection in public. Apart from that one kiss in front of everyone in Derdriu, there hasn’t been much of a chance for them to be publicly affectionate, so this is a novel experience. He likes it.

“How are your wounds faring?” Mercedes asks.

“It’s a struggle,” he admits. “I’m just glad I’m alive.”

“We are too,” Lysithea agrees. “The world would be a less interesting place without you.”

“I have to agree,” Byleth says as he takes Claude’s hand. Guess they both like being a little affectionate in public. Claude grins as Byleth gives his hand a small squeeze.

It appears Byleth has had Claude’s mother’s ring resized too. Claude hadn’t noticed he’d slipped it on before they left his room, but now he can feel it clear as day on his finger.

It’s real. It’s clear. They’re engaged.

Lysithea looks back and forth between them, probably noting that Claude looks absolutely besotted. “When’s the wedding?”

“We haven’t sat down and decided anything. We only became officially engaged on the march to Almyra,” Byleth replies. “I’d like it to be sooner rather than later. Life is short.”

Almost as if on cue, some of Claude’s tender scars and healing bones start to ache. He takes his hand out of Byleth’s to retrieve a vulnerary from his pocket. He tips the vial into his mouth and sighs at the instantaneous relief.

“How often do you find yourself doing that?” Mercedes asks.

“At least once or twice a day. I prefer it to being dead. I’m a delicate little flower, but I’m alive.”

“My handsome, delicate little flower,” Byleth teases, giving him butterfly kisses on his cheek. 

Speaking of butterflies, Claude’s stomach fills with them. He might explode into butterflies if Byleth looks at him a certain way. Oh, there it is. A look that tells Claude of how enamored Byleth is. Years of having the idea he’s unworthy of love beaten into him leaves him sometimes unbelieving of the way Byleth feels for him. There’s no way he would’ve proposed if he didn’t love him. He wouldn’t have written him so many love letters while he was in Almyra. Claude treasures those letters.

“I hope you’re ready for a party tonight,” Lysithea says, winking at Mercedes conspiratorially. 

“I’m thirty-one. Do I still need birthday parties?” Byleth asks with a joking groan.

“Oh, hush. I’m older than you are and Annie throws me a party every year, remember?” Mercedes reminds him.

“Fine, I will begrudgingly accept a party,” he says with a sigh. 

“Don’t act like it’s such a hardship.” Claude grins and presses his lips to Byleth’s. “It’s your friends wanting to celebrate you.”

Claude understands Byleth’s dislike of his birthday. His mother died to save the life of her stillborn son. He wouldn’t be alive if she hadn’t made that sacrifice. He didn’t even know that before coming to Garreg Mach, but since he’s been made aware, it’s been a smidge difficult for him. He will undoubtedly make his way down to the cemetery to sit at her grave for a while, to mourn a woman he never knew.

“I know you all mean well. I’ll try to be more grateful.”

“It’s okay, Professor. We know it can be a little much for you,” Lysithea assures him.

“Thank you,” he says with a nod. Seemingly finished with his meal for the time being, he leans against Claude as he continues shoveling food into his face. He wasn’t joking about having worked up an appetite.

—

Claude sits with Byleth in front of his parents’ grave, letting him lean and rest his entire body weight against him. He holds him close, an arm around his waist as he kisses the top of Byleth’s head.

“Thanks for sitting here with me,” Byleth says, snuggling closer than close.

“Of course. Gotta get my facetime in with the in-laws anyway.”

“My dad knew how happy you made me, but I still wonder if he would’ve liked that we’ve become something more than a silly student and his professor. I don’t think he was like your dad and would’ve hated me for loving a man, but I don’t know if he’d be fully accepting either.”

“From what I know about Jeralt, he would be happy that you’re happy, regardless of how it happened. For all his blustering about how your students were brats, he liked that I made you smile. I certainly do a lot of that now, don’t I?”

“More so than before. You weren’t real with me until after he died. Your easy smile never reached your eyes.”

“It did sometimes. When I was with you.”

“Claude, I… I feel like so much of my identity is tied up in you. According to Seteth, there’s no way I’ll die an organic death. The way my father stopped aging is when Rhea gave him her blood. I think, if we’re to live a prolonged life together, I’d have to do the same for you. I want to do it on our wedding day, if that’s something you want.”

“Oh, Byleth,” Claude murmurs, tipping his fiancé’s head to leave a kiss on his lips. “Yes. I want that. I would be afraid of what eternity might hold, but I’m not frightened as long as I have you.”

“Okay, good. You are the dearest thing to my heart, Claude von Riegan.”

“Well, as it happens, you’re mine,” Claude agrees with a soft smile.

—

Their parties are much more subdued as they get older. Gone is the blackout drunkenness of the past and here is the sipped wine and spirits and passing around of babies.

Arturo is big enough to walk now and he does, toddling along and getting picked up for hugs and kisses from various honorary aunties and uncles. Hapi is sticking to water and juice as she is carrying his little brother or sister.

Marianne and Ferdinand have a little girl named Abigail, who pulls on Byleth’s hair, drawing a smile from his beloved in such a way that Claude officially wants to have that man’s babies. Not  _ literally _ , but it’s something to talk about.

Raphael and Ingrid are expecting their little one any day now and everyone wants to touch her belly and feel them kick. Sylvain is probably the most amused by it, remarking that the only person to ever kick him that much was Felix when they were kids, earning the evil eye from his significant other.

“I remember Glenn had to stop you from kicking him so much,” Ingrid says to their raven-haired friend. “He sat you down and said ‘Felix, Sylvain probably deserves it, but hit him with a sword instead.’ And Dimitri handed you the wooden training sword and you started hacking at Sylvain.”

“It was well-documented that the Fraldarius boys tormented the Gautiers. Miklan and I both deserved it, him more than me, but you and Glenn hit  _ hard. _ You still do. Not always in a bad way.” Sylvain’s wink is met with the most disgusted grimace the world has ever seen.

“Wait, are the two of you—?” Ingrid asks, glancing between the two. 

Sylvain took Byleth to the side earlier to ask if he minded a proposal on his birthday. He, of course, said he didn’t mind. Then when Felix asked the same question, he got to say yes to that one too. Felix just didn’t realize that the law was changed on their behalf.

“Yes, Ingrid,” is all Felix says, folding his arms across his chest annoyedly.

“Even without having met Glenn, I understand why he beat up Miklan, but why did you deserve it, Sylvain?” Claude asks curiously.

“I called him short all the time. I think it gave him a complex,” Sylvain stage-whispers.

“Fuck you,” Felix grumbles. “Riegan, boar, let’s go for a walk.”

Claude happily tags along with Felix and Dimitri for a nice walk outside.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Claude asks, slinging his arm around Felix’s shoulders easily and not even attempting to do the same to Dimitri. Speaking of a height complex… 

“Like it or not, the two of you are my closest… ugh,  _ confidants, _ ” Felix says as he shoves Claude’s arm off of him.

“Really? I don’t even think you like us,” Dimitri remarks.

“Well, didn’t the two of you…” Claude is at a loss at what to say, so he settles for a crude hand gesture that Felix scoffs at.

“Yes, Claude. We engaged in a casual sexual relationship for several months,” Dimitri admits, his cheeks going pink.

“Several  _ months?  _ Felix Hugo Fraldarius, you prickly pear, you implied it happened  _ once _ ,” Claude says accusingly.

“It did,” he admits through gritted teeth. “And then many times after that.”

“Like Kyphon and Loog. Got it.” He has the tact not to mention what Felix said about their fathers because he’s sure it would traumatize Dimitri and he’s had enough trauma in his short life. “What did you need to tell your close, personal friends and confidants?”

Felix rolls his eyes and says, “I’m sure the professor has already told you, Claude, but I am planning on asking Sylvain to marry me tonight.”

“He did. We have no secrets at this point. He’s definitely going to know you two had a prolonged sexual relationship.”

“Claude!” Dimitri scolds. “Fine, go ahead. I don’t have to worry about the professor mocking me.”

“I’m  _ worried  _ he won’t say yes. He acted like he was okay with me having slept with Dimitri, but does he still want to be with me or is he just too cowardly to admit this was a mistake?”

“He’ll say yes. Trust me. I have it on very good authority that he’ll say yes,” Claude declares.

“On  _ whose  _ authority?”

“The man who changed an archaic law for someone other than himself.”

“He didn’t… Not for you?” Felix asks, genuine surprise in his eyes.

“No. That would’ve been unethical in his opinion. No, it’s because the son of a Faerghus noble wrote to him asking for his blessing to propose to a Faerghan duke.”

Felix collapses onto the grass. Claude and Dimitri both kneel beside him, checking to make sure he didn’t hit his head.

“Are you okay?” Dimitri asks.

“He really did that?” Felix is in disbelief.

“He’s super in love with you, Felix. If you know anything for certain, know that,” Claude assures him, punching him lightly in the bicep.

“Speaking of love and marriage, when are you and the professor tying the knot?” Dimitri asks.

“Speaking of love and marriage, when are you going to tell Dedue how you feel? You should tell him tonight. Do you want me to tell him? Byleth would be willing to do it too. He already knows, we have no secrets,” he repeats.

“ _ Claude _ ,” Dimitri groans.

“He’s too happy. Let’s kill him,” Felix decides. 

“Just tell him how you feel,” Claude says, ducking out of the way of Felix’s half-hearted punch. “He probably feels the same.”

“He finally agreed to be my friend. I’m afraid that telling him my true feelings would irreversibly ruin what we finally have.”

“You’re languishing in unrequited love. I know from experience that that leads to heartache,” Claude says. “I don’t think my heart ached for quite as long as yours has. You’ll probably have a success story like mine and Felix’s.”

“That makes it sound like you and I are together,” Felix says with a grimace.

“You  _ wish _ you could take a bite of this.”

“I really don’t.”

“Sure, Felix,” Claude teases with a wink, “I believe you.”

Felix scoffs at him and Claude feels warm and fuzzy about it. As prickly as he is, he’s vulnerable around Claude and that makes him feel happy. He’s a genuine friend. So is Dimitri, frankly. He never would’ve imagined making such deep connections to his classmates like this when he first enrolled at the Officers Academy.

“You never answered my question as to when you and the professor will wed,” Dimitri points out.

“Soon. My mother wants it to be a big deal and Seteth wants a royal wedding, despite, well, being two men. He and my mother and sisters have already started planning.”

“I eagerly await my invitation,” Dimitri says with a smile brighter than Claude would ever have imagined he could muster after the revelation of Edelgard’s treachery.

“Bring Dedue as a date or don’t come,” Claude says, only half-joking.

Dimitri slaps a hand to his face and sighs. “Let’s raise a glass. Felix is getting engaged tonight.”

“And I’m going to tell Dedue that Dimitri is in love with him,” Claude suggests, poking Dimitri in the side.

“Will you not let a sleeping dog lie?”

“Sleeping dog needs to stop  _ lying _ to himself,” Felix retorts bitingly. “Where are we supposed to raise a glass, boar? We’re on the ground in freezing weather.”

Claude dramatically throws himself onto his back beside Felix and sighs. “Lie down next to me, Dimitri. You two should keep me warm. I grew up in a hot climate. You two are used to cold.”

Dimitri settles onto his side beside Claude, draping his arm over his middle, long enough for his hand to rest on Felix’s chest.

“You may tell Dedue,” he finally concedes. Claude raises a fist in victory. “If he feels the need to permanently leave for Duscur, then that is that.”

“What the hell are you three doing?” Claude turns his head to see Sylvain staring at them, an eyebrow quirked suspiciously, Lysithea at his elbow.

“Come cuddle with us,” Claude requests, beckoning them over.

Lysithea rolls her eyes at him. “Your sisters are teaching everyone how to dance like you do in Almyra and it’s hilarious to watch Raphael. Come on.”

“It’s not as fun without you, Felix,” Sylvain says with a pouty face, one that Felix immediately scoffs at.

“Can’t be worse than being forced to cuddle with Claude and the boar,” he decides as he moves to stand up.

“Fine. Leave the platonic guy snuggle. More Dimitri for me.”

“Your mother is dancing with her soon-to-be son-in-law,” Lysithea tells him.

“Sorry, Dimitri, I have to save my fiancé from that woman,” Claude says as he springs to his feet.

—

“Do you want to just get married tonight?”

Claude is taken aback, expecting just to tell him about the Dedue situation. He didn’t expect Byleth to immediately spring something so big and life-changing so fast.

“Are you serious? Seteth and my mom—”

“We can still have a big thing later. This is more intimate. Many of our closest friends, your mom and sisters, and us.  _ Us  _ is the most important part obviously,” Byleth says, going in for a kiss.

Claude happily accepts the kiss, wrapping an arm around Byleth’s waist. “Yeah, I’ll marry you tonight,” he says brightly. “I just have  _ one  _ tiny little thing to do first.”

“What is it?”

“Dedue.”

“You’re going to do Dedue?” Byleth asks, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“Dimitri said I can tell him. It’s like we’re in the Academy again and I’m having to deliver love letters for people. By the way, thank you for delivering that one to Rhea.”

“Sylvain and Felix proposing to each other, Dimitri letting you tell Dedue how he feels, and you agreeing to marry me tonight… Love is in the air.”

“It’s intoxicating,” Claude declares, literally sweeping Byleth off his feet for another kiss, then trailing his lips down the column of his neck. He nuzzles against Byleth’s pulse, breathing him in. “Should we have sex right now?”

“No way, loverboy. We can consummate the marriage  _ after. _ ”

“You’re no fun.”

“I have to go grab the wedding bands from Seteth’s office. You go talk to Dedue.”

“Will do,” Claude agrees, kissing his fiancé on the cheek. “Will  _ Dedue. _ ”

Byleth rolls his eyes, but allows Claude to steal one more breathless kiss.

—

“Dedue,” Claude says, stopping in front of where he is holding Arturo, “can we talk?”

“This sounds important,” Ashe comments, taking his son from his giant uncle. “Go ahead. We’ll be here when you get back.”

Dedue gives a nod, then a boop to Arturo’s nose. He is the strong, silent Dedue he normally is as he follows Claude outside.

“You and the professor look rather happy,” he remarks awkwardly once they’re alone.

“We are. We really are. Look, the reason I wanted to talk to you is about love, actually. Dimitri finally agreed that you deserve to know that he’s in love with you.”

“He… That cannot be right.”

“You slip up all the time and refer to him with titles and honorifics and you still find it difficult to call him your friend, which is why he felt more comfortable with me telling you rather than him. He’s been in love with you for  _ years _ . He wants you to see him as an equal and he doesn’t want you to love him purely out of duty. He understands if you need to leave for Duscur instead of facing him again. He is absolutely terrified to lose you, but he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“May I be honest with you, Claude?”

“Of course. Always.”

“I have struggled with my own feelings. In these later years, I find myself falling back on old habits out of a fear I’ll overstep my bounds. I fear I’ve gotten far too comfortable and allowed my feelings to grow out of control in our time apart. He saved my life and I got to do the same for him. We reached an equilibrium that day in Fhirdiad, but as I was nursed back to health after my near-death experience, I felt an urge to run off half-alive to locate the hurricane of a man who held my life in his grasp for so many years.”

“Is this a long-winded way of saying your feelings are the same as his?”

“Yes.”

“Go tell him you want to kiss him. Tell him and show him that you  _ want  _ him. Not that you’re just doing this out of a misplaced sense of duty. He needs to know that you are fully in control and fully desire him.”

“Do you make a habit of doing this often?”

“Oh, definitely. Did it for both Sylvain and Felix on separate occasions. Byleth got in there too. I guess we just love  _ love. _ We want to see our friends happy, even if that friend is stupid Lorenz. You know Teach played him and Leonie like a fiddle during school and the war. Paired them up on missions and assignments, arranged for them to take meals together. Actually, he did the same thing with Ashe and Hapi. And Dorothea and Petra. And Marianne and Ferdinand. And… wait a goddamn minute, has he been the puppetmaster behind  _ all  _ of it?”

“And he was rewarded for all of that hard work with your love.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“I think I lack the capability for sarcasm.”

Claude grins. “By the way, we’re eloping tonight. Seteth and my mom are going to be  _ furious _ , but they can still plan the big one. We figured, what the hell, right? Most of our friends are here. Those who aren’t can make it for the royal treatment.”

Dedue hugs him without warning. “I am happy for you. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s the professor and the king who brought their lands together.”

“Thanks, Dedue. I think you deserve happiness too. I think we all do. After what we went through, we all do.”

—

Seteth only looks slightly annoyed, probably because Byleth broke into his office more than anything else.

Mercedes jumps at the chance to officiate their impromptu wedding, which is unsurprising. If not her, they would’ve gone for Seteth, but Mercedes is perfect. She’s been a good friend to them for ten years. 

Claude mostly operates automatically, barely listening as she invokes the Goddess and talks about love and joy and happiness and being true companions and lifelong partners. Those are all the things he feels as he gazes deep into Byleth’s oceanic blue-green eyes.

“I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine,” Byleth says, causing Claude’s heart to flutter and his stomach to erupt with butterflies. He slides the ring onto Claude’s finger, seamlessly fitting against the band already there.

“I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine,” Claude echoes, doing just the same. A thin plain band custom-made to adhere to the curves of their engagement rings.

“By the power vested in me by the Church of Seiros, I pronounce you to be married. You may kiss your husband.”

Claude hardly needed the prompt. He’s wanted to kiss him the entire time. They collapse into several small kisses until it’s just one giant tongue kiss. He figures he should cut that short so as not to make out in front of their friends. That would just make Byleth retroactively bashful once he’d realized.

“Hey, cuties,” Hilda says once the ceremonial aspect dies down, slinging her arms around their shoulders, “I’m so happy for you.” She kisses each of them on the cheek. Claude takes one look at her face and he can tell she cried. She’s been very invested in their love story since Claude was nearly mortally wounded.

“Thank you, Hilda,” Byleth says, giving her a kiss on the cheek in return. She blushes.

Not to be outdone, Claude peppers several kisses on her other cheek.

“Where are Sylvain and my prickly pear?” Claude asks, unable to spot them.

“They disappeared after the kiss. Same with Dedue and Dimitri.”

Claude grins. Their machinations are bearing fruit.

“I can’t believe you’re  _ married _ ,” Hilda says with a dreamy sigh. “When are the babies coming? The Goddess made all her children. Can  _ you  _ make children?” She looks at Byleth expectantly.

“Uh, I’m not sure. Rhea left a journal full of information and I haven’t really… looked that deeply into it. It’s certainly a conversation to be had that we  _ haven’t  _ had. I don’t even know if we  _ want  _ kids.”

“I don’t know either,” Claude admits.

“We’ll just enjoy being married.”

“Yes, enjoy being married.”

“Enjoy each other then,” she declares, unwrapping her arms from around them and dipping away.

“I’m already enjoying being married, my love,” Byleth declares, leaning over to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

“Well, that’s something we can agree on,” Claude says with a grin.

—

“So, um, do you want to wait for the big thing to give me your blood or is tonight… I think tonight’s the night,” Claude says, only a tinge of fear in his voice.

“It’s crude, but the way it works is you have to drink my blood while I sing some song,” Byleth tells him as he thumbs through the journal Rhea wrote in her final days.

“Oh. Drinking your blood?”

“Less than a goblet full, more than just a drop. I understand it’s gross, but—”

“No, I want to. I mean, I’ve bitten you hard enough to draw blood before. Of course, that was because I was having sex in a semi-public place, not because I was looking for you to make me immortal so we can live together forever. Gods, this sounds crazy, but I want it so bad, even if it means being a vampire for a moment.”

“Are you sure? It means watching everyone else die. I don’t want you to do that just to spare me from watching you.”

Claude’s stomach hurts. He never considered that. “I… I think I still want to. I love you. That’s scary, but I want to love you forever.”

“Then let’s commence.”

It’s bizarre to be lapping blood off of Byleth’s wrist as he sings to him, but if that’s what it takes, then that’s what it takes.

“ _ In time's flow… see the glow of flames ever burning bright… On the swift river's drift, broken memories alight _ .”

After all that choir practice, Claude knew that Byleth’s singing voice was beautiful, but it’s never been as beautiful as it is now. He can feel lightning coursing through his veins as sure as the metallic taste on his tongue, a shiver running through him as the song ends and he removes his mouth from his lover’s wrist.

He wipes his lips and comes away with blood on the back of his hand. Byleth hands him a cloth before he starts wrapping his wrist with a bandage.

“Is that it?” Claude asks. “Just a song and the world’s weirdest beverage?”

“That’s what it seems like in this journal. She stipulated that she did it for my father after he took a mortal wound for her and cardinals in the church as a rite of initiation.”

“Okay, that’s… okay. And what happened then?”

“Well, my dad gained the Crest of Seiros, but I don’t think my Crest is transferable and you already have one.”

“I saw you with Abigail and I wanted to have your kids,” Claude blurts out. “I want to have kids with you, I think. Not any time soon, but I think I want to eventually. If that’s what you want. Maybe we should’ve discussed this before I drank your blood. Oh gods…”

He’s on the verge of a panic attack. He’s freaking out. 

“I think I want children with you too,” Byleth says, dunking that fear into an ice cold bath, keeping it from spreading.

“Oh. You do?”

“I do. Rhea had the ability to create my mother, so I should have _some_ capabilities in that regard. Sothis made a whole race of children, after all. And if we can’t have ones who are biologically related to us, the war created a lot of orphans.”

Claude’s heart aches. Byleth wants to raise children with him. With  _ him. _ His mom is going to be so excited to be a grandmother.

Claude hopes there’s a way to have their own. He wants a little baby with Byleth’s eyes, but he might want to adopt a few kids even if they  _ can  _ have biological ones.

“You look lost in thought,” Byleth comments, tipping Claude’s head up to kiss him. “Do you regret what we just did?”

“No. I love you. I want to be with you and I don’t want you to watch me die. It’s a no-brainer.”

Byleth smiles as he leans in to kiss him again, undoubtedly tasting his own blood on Claude’s tongue. That’s… odd.

“Now that you have part of me inside you, I think I want you inside me,” Byleth says softly.

Oh shit. Oh damn. Oh… “Are you sure?”

“I am,” he confirms, taking Claude by the hand. “I want to know how you feel.”

Claude has had sex with Byleth many times, but he’s never seen anything like the sight of him writhing under the ministrations of his fingers, careful not to push too far or too fast until he’s really ready. He’s so beautifully responsive, gasping and panting and moaning with each movement of Claude’s digits inside him.

“That feel good?” Claude asks as he presses a kiss to Byleth’s inner thigh.

Byleth nods and utters something that vaguely sounds like a high and whining “yes.”

It’s been quite a while since Claude’s topped, so he’s a bit out of practice as he lines himself up before pressing in. He takes it slow, letting himself sink into the snug, tight sheath of his lover bit by bit. 

It’s not the first time Claude has seen Byleth come and it won’t be the last, but he looks so stunning with his green hair fanned out over the pillow like it was in the morning, his face is sculpted by pure pleasure. He comes hard into Claude’s hand as he sucks a mark on his neck. He contracts around Claude and brings him over the finish line and milks him dry.

“That was good,” Byleth remarks once his spirit returns to his body. “A little overwhelming, if I’m to be honest.”

“Yeah? You prefer it the other way?”

“I think so. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I’ve grown rather fond of having your dick in me,” Claude teases with a wink as he flops down beside his lover. Beside his  _ husband. _

“Give me a few minutes and we can make that happen,” Byleth teases right back. They were a match made in heaven.

—

**_Day 25 of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1190_ **

**_The night is cold._ **

“Mind if I cut in?” 

Byleth and Lysithea smile when they see it’s Claude breaking up their dance.

“I’ll leave you to your husband,” Lysithea says.

“I wasn’t talking about him, beautiful,” Claude replies with a cheeky grin and a wink.

She really does look beautiful. Her extra Crest being removed revealed her natural chestnut hair and shimmering green eyes and restored color to her face. She is healthy and happy and glowing.

“I’m going to go find  _ my  _ husband,” she declares. “Good to see you, Claude.”

“You too, little sister,” Claude says, that grin yet to falter.

“How’s Derdriu?” Byleth asks, taking Claude’s hand in his and adopting the leading pose in a waltz.

“I sent a letter yesterday telling you. Should be getting here soon,” he says with a laugh. “I wasn’t sure I’d make it here tonight, but I figured Lorenz could deal with waiting an extra week or two for our meeting. It’s important. Tonight it’s been ten years to the day since I asked you to dance.”

“And I’ve only experienced five of those years,” Byleth recalls sadly. “I’m glad they got to be with you, even when situations weren’t ideal.”

“Like war.”

“Exactly,” Byleth says, swooping in for a kiss. In front of everyone. 

A year ago, Byleth pledged to openly admit his love for another man. Now he’s kissing his husband in front of everyone. Of course, these people don’t actually know they’re married. That’s waiting for their big wedding at the start of next year. They’ll be giving a landmark for the year starting in the fourth month for a reason other than the Adrestian Empire. They’re merely betrothed to all except their friends and family.

“Kissing me in full view before we’re married might seem scandalous to people. Well, people who have the same ideals as Lorenz's dad.”

“We  _ are  _ married,” Byleth reminds him quietly. 

“ _ They  _ don’t know that. Let’s just save the kisses for more discreet company. I don’t want people thinking I’m the king’s floozy.”

“Not a—”

“You realize  _ everyone  _ calls you the king, right? It’s easier than saying ‘ruler of the United Kingdom of Fódlan.’ So everyone calls you the king and some people I’ve barely held back on punching call me your queen.”

“I’m sorry, my love,” Byleth says with a frown. “You’re the king of my heart.”

Claude chuckles. “You’re so  _ corny  _ sometimes, but I know you’re earnest above all else, so you’re not making fun of me.”

“You’ll  _ know  _ when I’m making fun of you.”

“I usually do, darling,” he says with a wink. “It’s disappointing that we haven’t been a married couple much. I’ve gotten over here a grand total of once and you were working the whole time.”

“I’m sorry, my beloved. I think it’ll be easier for us once it’s all official. I don’t know how often I’ll be to Derdriu, but it’ll be more understandable for you to come here for a while once the world knows we’re married.”

“I’m staying long enough to be here for you on the anniversary. You don’t need to go through that alone. It’s been a long time.”

“He’s been dead for nearly a third of my life now,” Byleth says, a mournful look on his face. “I miss him every day.”

“I miss him too. He called me a brat a lot in his journal, but he made you and Leonie and Alois so happy. He was a good man and he was gone too soon.”

“I wish he could’ve been there. I think he and your mom would get along the way all in-laws do. I think your sisters would drive him crazy.”

“I’m excited for them to join the Golden Deer next year. Is Lysithea still in charge?”

“Nope. She and Cyril are going to Ordelia territory to stay with her parents for a while. He’s taking a sabbatical from the knights. Hanneman is shifting from the Blue Lions to the Deer and Annette is coming from the Royal School of Sorcery to lead the Lions. We’ve poached their best instructor. I’m so happy. It’s probably Gustave’s influence. He’s serving Dimitri, but he still visits the Knights of Seiros from time to time.”

“I’ve tried to prepare my sisters for this. They’re still a bit confused by Crests and nobility, but since you’ve moved Fódlan away from that business to a degree, I don’t think it’s going to be as big of a culture shock as it was for me when I first came here. Especially considering they have my mom and the entirety of the court in Derdriu under their spell.”

“Are they magic practitioners?” Byleth asks, head tilting curiously to the side.

“I don’t mean literally, love. Though Samira is interested. She saw Sylvain use magic on a cup of tea that had gone cold and asked him a million questions about it. Eman is a typical Almyran — axes and wyverns. Father never gave her an egg, but I’ve been letting her take Hilal out for spins. Hilal is good for a beginner. She has a great temperament.”

“There’s a clutch of hatchlings in the stables who’ll be ready to ride by the time she gets here. Four males and two females.”

“She’s going to be ecstatic to hear that. I’m sure Samira won’t turn down a chance to have a wyvern of her own either.”

“When did Samira see Sylvain use Fire on tea?”

“March back to Derdriu after the coup. I obviously wasn’t there, but she told me about it. Called him the ‘cute ginger.’ Thankfully he has Felix because I shudder to think of him hitting on my sister.”

“She’s a child. Sylvain is a cad, not a predator.”

“Fair point… I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Byleth says, dropping a kiss on Claude’s cheek. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Let’s go back to where this all began.”

—

**_Day 1 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1191_ **

**_All is lovely._ **

“Nervous?” Sylvain asks.

“A little. I mean, we’re already married, but the prospect of making that known to  _ everyone  _ is a little daunting.”

“You’ll do fine. Don’t forget to say your lines and try to look besotted,” Dedue instructs.

“He certainly does enough of that already,” Felix comments in a way that isn’t totally mean for once.

“I can’t believe your family is helping your husband get ready instead of you,” Hilda says with a smirk. “They love their new family member more than they love you.”

“They really do. You have no idea how excited Eman and Samira are to start at the Officers Academy tomorrow just so they can drop in on Byleth every day.”

“Your mother fusses over him,” Dimitri notes.

“He never knew his mother, so she’s taking the  _ son  _ part of son-in-law very seriously.”

“Are you excited to see your brother and other sisters today?” Leonie asks.

“I am. I’m excited to see  _ everyone _ . I’ve missed all of my friends from Garreg Mach and my brother and sisters and step-mother. I haven’t seen Petra and Dorothea in a while… I love having all of you around.”

“We love you too,” Hilda says, slinging her arm around him and kissing his cheek. Sylvain does the same on the other side.

There’s a small knock on the door, then Seteth poking his head in.

“It’s time.”

—

They’re already married. The pomp and circumstance is what matters today, not the anxiety of wanting to be married as soon as possible. That’s how he gets through it. This isn’t about them, this is about everyone else.

He likes the concept of putting the ring onto Byleth’s finger again. They removed them to use in the ceremony, so it’s a fun little bit to look forward to.

The words are a bit more formal, the vows a bit more clunky on the tongue, but he grins and bears it. He’s finally going to get to be  _ officially  _ married at the end of this.

He’s about to die of relief when they finally get to kiss. And of course, the wyvern they let into the cathedral decides to be a bit jealous, nosing in between them until they each give her a kiss too. The pews erupt into peals of laughter as Hilal nuzzles them. Claude pats her on the snout until she’s satisfied enough to let them kiss for real, applauded by the people.

Claude looks out and sees his family. Yes, his mother and siblings and his step-mothers, but his  _ chosen  _ family as well. The ones who stuck by his side as they went to hell and back over and over again.

He’s happier than he’s ever been in his life.

—

They have to do a special dance, a waltz, just the two of them. It’s a little embarrassing to be so scrutinized while you dance, but this is important and ceremonial, so Seteth says. It’s the one concession his mother made when they were planning the reception.

The atmosphere of the party is warm and pulsating and alive. It’s like a real Almyran celebration, not the stuffy kind of gala that Byleth was subjected to when he made a diplomatic visit. This is vibrant and exciting.

Once their dance is over, they get sprinkled with a floral confetti, marking them as guests of honor in the Almyran fashion. Byleth smiles and pulls Claude in for a kiss, the guests applauding the gesture. Claude loves him so much his heart hurts.

—

“You are looking handsome when you smile. A good smile, one that is reaching your eyes.”

Claude gives Petra one of those smiles, happy to see her.

“It’s been too long. I’ve been meaning to take a trip to Brigid,” he says as he hugs her. “How are things?”

“My grandfather is strong. Many thought he would be showing sickness with age, but he is healthy.”

“That’s great. Are you prepared to take the mantle of queen once he does pass?”

“I am believing so. Much thanks goes to Dorothea. My wife is very helpful. We are helping each other with our native languages for diplomatic reasons.”

“I noticed your grammar has improved. She’s doing a great job.” He grins at her again. “Look at us, marrying for love. Not a lot of people get to do that. Especially people in our positions.”

“I have much happiness for you,” she says with a smile. “Would you like to dance with me? I can teach you how we are dancing in Brigid.”

“I’d love that.”

—

When they meet again a few hours later, Byleth’s cheeks are flushed and he is extremely giggly. Someone gave him a glass of wine. He’s a total lightweight, so he’s buzzed.

“I  _ love _ you,” he says before kissing Claude on the nose. 

“I love you too, drunky,” Claude replies, kissing his husband’s cheek. “Who inebriated you?”

“Mom. She thought it’d be inconsequential to give me  _ one  _ drink,” Byleth says, not too drunk that he can’t say ‘inconsequential’. 

“How embarrassing that the Goddess can’t hold her liquor.”

“Yeah, well, maybe  _ she  _ can, but  _ I _ certainly can’t. Kiss me.”

Claude snorts, but leans in to kiss his dumb, drunk husband anyway.

“Was it at least good wine?”

“I don’t have a gauge for that. A gift for Adrestia’s founding day, straight from an Enbarr winery. They use Bergliez grapes. It was good I think? It wasn’t my  _ favorite _ thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Claude snorts. “I could say the dirtiest thing right now, but I’m refraining.”

“What? That my favorite thing I’ve put in my mouth is your dick?”

Luckily drunk Byleth has a sense of volume control and does not alert their guests that they’ve engaged in premarital oral sex.

“That is what I was thinking, yes.”

“You’d be correct. We should go do that right now.”

“Not while you’re intoxicated. Sober up and you can do whatever you want with me.”

Drunk Byleth gives him quite the eyeroll. “Fine. Dance with me at least?”

“Sure thing, my adorable little lush.”

—

Mercedes baked the cake and Ignatz helped to decorate it. It’s pretty as a picture and Claude is going to hate cutting into it and marring its beauty.

Of course, they have to and they do it with a smile, hands on the cake knife together. As they pull the slice out and put it on a plate, Byleth — who is no longer drunk, but just the slightest bit tipsy — scoops a finger of buttercream off the slice and boops it onto Claude’s nose. Claude grins and does the same to his husband.

They nuzzle each other, smearing the buttercream, and kiss, a smile on each of their faces. 

—

As the party winds down, they give kisses and hugs to each of their friends as they depart for the guest rooms at Garreg Mach or the inns in town.

Claude doesn’t hear what Sylvain says to Byleth, but he can hear Ingrid’s hand make contact with his shoulder.

“What? I’m a flirt,” is his defense. “Felix knows that’ll never change.”

“Believe me, I know. I’m never going to forget you flirting with my  _ granny _ . Or that scarecrow.”

Claude chuckles and leans over to kiss his husband. “Flirting with a married man? For shame, Gautier.”

“He  _ should  _ be ashamed,” Ingrid says, readjusting the baby in her arms. Jasper Glenn Galatea Kirsten. He’s an adorable little blond brick house of a baby. He definitely takes after his father in regards to his build. He’s going to be a little Raphael when he grows up.

“This was fun,” Felix says, giving Claude a fucking  _ hug. _ Mark this down as a historic moment. Felix Hugo Fraldarius willingly hugged him.

“You’ve got that right,” Raphael booms, hugging their hug. Felix is sandwiched and he scoffs in annoyance.

Sylvain gives them both a kiss on the cheek before taking Felix by the hand and walking him out, Ingrid and Raphael behind them after one last group hug.

Hilda is one of the last of their friends to depart. She’s a little bit past drunk, so it’s a good thing she’s staying in the monastery rather than the town. She cries and hugs them both, blubbering about how happy she is for them, for her brothers. Apparently she sees them as brothers, sometimes more than Holst. Holst left about an hour earlier, citing a headache, but made sure to bid his farewell to the grooms.

“You’re the person I love most in this world, Claude von Riegan,” she says, booping him on the nose. 

His heart aches. “I love you so much, Hilda Valentine Goneril.”

She hugs him again, burying her face against his shoulder and sighing contentedly. This is his chosen sister and he loves her to death. It’s going to be so hard to watch her grow old and eventually pass. Byleth warned him and yet the realization still hits hard.

“We love you, Hilda,” Byleth says, leaning over to ruffle her hair. “You are always welcome here and in Derdriu. It always brings a smile to my face to see you. I know Claude feels that even more so.”

She’s happy with that and gives Byleth one last hug. Eman runs over, happy to give her a much needed escort to her room. His sister has already hugged him and Byleth a million times, so she doesn’t miss out on that.

“Are you satisfied with tonight?” Byleth asks Claude, knocking their elbows together.

“More than satisfied.”

—

**_Day 2 of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1191_ **

**_Flowers have bloomed._ **

“With your wedding, we are officially changing your title to King and your husband’s to Prince,” Seteth announces in front of the council. Byleth’s face drops.

“I do not wish to be a king,” he says softly. Dimitri looks at him sympathetically. Claude, Ferdinand, and Dimitri are able to make a council meeting in person for once since they were there just a night before for the wedding.

“The people are insistent. It came as a result of four separate petitions, signed by common citizens and nobles alike from across Fódlan,” a man that Claude’s never seen before declares. Who is this man and why has he never been at a council meeting Claude’s been to?

“Lorenz tried to get me to sign one. I knew it’s not what you wanted, so I didn’t,” Claude tells him. “I suppose being a prince isn’t so bad. I mean, I’m still Prince Khalid of Almyra, former king and ambassador to Fódlan. Before that, I’m Duke Riegan.”

“We were thinking Prince Claude would become your primary title,” another stranger says. Who are these people? Has it really been that long since he’s been to a council meeting? He’s an awful councilor.

“I left Almyra to be Duke Riegan and that’s how I want to remain. No offense.”

“I thought you left Almyra for  _ love _ ,” Catherine challenges with a raised eyebrow.

“I can love two things,” he says defensively. “I begrudgingly accept the title  _ if  _ it’s what my husband wants.”

Dimitri is still a prince. From the looks of it, he will be the last prince of Faerghus. It’s not as if he and Dedue can produce a Blaiddyd heir. Dimitri and Ferdinand both look annoyed on Byleth’s behalf about this change of title.

“I will accept it if that’s truly what the people want,” Byleth concedes. He takes Claude’s hand and sighs. “If my beloved is willing to make that concession, I shall as well.”

Claude’s stomach fills with butterflies at the fact that Byleth called him  _ my beloved _ during a council meeting. Ferdinand looks overjoyed at the fact, glancing between them and absolutely beaming.

“Do we have to worry about a preference for the people of Leicester over Faerghus or Adrestia?” a Faerghan representative asks.

“Have I shown favoritism in the past?”

“No,” Ferdinand confirms. 

“Not in the slightest,” Dimitri agrees.

Byleth takes a breath of relief. “I am glad to hear that.”

“Well, now to our normally scheduled agenda…” Seteth segues.

Admittedly, Claude finds himself dozing during the meeting. The party ended late last night, late enough that they went to bed immediately after a shared bath. Byleth squeezes his hand whenever he needs to pay attention, but mostly just lets him doze. He’ll just need to give Claude the highlights at the end.

For now, sleep.


	22. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth turns 40.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took forever on this and I'm still not happy with it, but without further ado...

**_Day 24 of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1199_ **

**_It’s unseasonably warm._ **

“Happy birthday, my dear,” Claude says to his husband, looking not a day older than the day he emerged from a void despite turning forty. “Oh, and happy anniversary.”

“Good morning. How long have you been watching me sleep?” Byleth asks before pressing his lips to Claude’s.

“About an hour. It’s your own fault for being so damn gorgeous.”

Byleth gives him a dramatic eye roll, but kisses him again anyway. Claude will never grow old of this back and forth. It’s fun, as opposed to the rare ugly fights they’ve had over the years, ones where Claude mounts Hilal and flies back to Derdriu.  _ This _ is cute and teasing.

“Y’know, there’s something that would make this be a  _ really  _ happy anniversary and birthday with the added bonus of shutting me up,” Claude says with a bright grin.

“I give it five minutes before the kids are bursting in with breakfast in bed. Your silver tongue is quite talented, but I don’t think it’s  _ that—” _

He’s cut off by a pair of children barrelling through the door, three older siblings carrying drinks and a tray of food behind them.

“Happy birthday, Papa!” Luna exclaims, jumping onto Byleth and eliciting a groan as she knees him in the kidney. “Happy anniversary, Papa and Daddy!”

Her twin brother Aron clambers up onto the bed too, sandwiching himself between his dads.

They both look like a blend of the two of them. Luna has green hair, dark and closer to the shade Byleth’s hair was pre-void, but she has Claude’s green eyes and tan skin and the Crest of Riegan. Aron has a never-before-seen Crest (that Hanneman and Linhardt are just fascinated with), with brown hair and Byleth’s oceanic blue-green eyes and pale skin. A perfect blend of Claude and his husband. He doesn’t know how the Goddess swung it and neither does Byleth, but they ended up with a pair of babies six years ago.

Violet, Bastien, and Clair were orphans of the war, just toddlers and an infant when their parents died, who were abused by the relative who took them in, eventually fleeing to Garreg Mach. In need of parents to love them, Byleth and Claude adopted them about two years after the wedding, when they first came to the monastery at the ages of 8, 7, and 6 respectively. There is no shortage of love between their parents and little siblings.

“Aunt Mercie helped us make you breakfast,” Clair says, sitting on the edge of the bed as Bastien hands the tray to Claude since Luna is in the way of giving it to Byleth. 

Mercedes and Annette have morphed into the aunts they have at Garreg Mach, in addition to their biological aunt Samira as leader of the Golden Deer (now that Hanneman has retired to focus on research and Manuela). Eman is engaged to be married to Ashe’s little brother in a matter of weeks. Ashe and Hapi are going to be his  _ in-laws _ .

“Thank you, kids. This means a lot,” Byleth says with a smile. “Not every day you turn forty.”

“You haven’t aged a day since we first met,” Claude says, kissing his husband on the cheek. Aron weasels his way in so his dads have to kiss him on the cheek too. Of course, that means Luna can’t be left out either. They remind him of Hilal when they do this. The older kids snort in amusement at the antics of the twins.

“How ‘bout we eat breakfast and get dressed and we meet up with you guys to go into town. That sound good?” Claude asks.

“That sounds excellent,” Violet says with a smile. “C’mon, kiddos, let’s leave Dads to their breakfast.” 

As the eldest, she is the best at wrangling the cats that are her siblings. She’s only fifteen, but she received the brunt of the abuse from her previous guardian to spare her siblings and it prematurely aged her. Claude has used every opportunity to let her be a kid, but it’s hard for her to let her hair down. It’s why she takes on a maternal role for her four younger siblings.

“Bye, Papa. Bye, Daddy,” Aron says, echoed by Luna. Clair and Bastien stick with a ‘see you soon, Dads’ and a smile.

Once the kids are out of the room, Claude hands the tray to Byleth and gets up and locks the door.

“Hurry up and eat breakfast so you can fuck me into the middle of next week.”

“Maybe we can eat breakfast  _ after _ ,” Byleth proposes, putting the tray onto his bedside table. Claude takes that as a cue to take his sleep pants off.

After nine years of marriage, it’s well rehearsed, not to mention helpful that they celebrated their anniversary by fucking off and on for a solid several hours before finally falling asleep because not much prep is needed. Just a bit of lubricant and two fingers testing the waters.

Claude breathily moans into Byleth’s ear as Byleth sinks into him, relishing in one of his favorite feelings in the world. The closeness and intimacy of having the person you love inside you makes Claude’s stomach fill with butterflies. Most things Byleth does or says leaves him with butterflies, but this is different to those other circumstances. These butterflies are married to a pleasured warmth that spreads from his head to his toes.

“Goddess, you feel so good,” Claude says between panting breaths and messy kisses from his husband.

That’ll never get old. Twelve years since they first made love and Byleth knows exactly what makes him tick, mastering sex the way he mastered swordsmanship and magic. After learning that Balthus cheated on his long-term girlfriend, they had a talk about infidelity and Byleth admitted he probably wouldn’t know what to do with someone else. He’s only ever been with Claude and that’s all he knows. Claude’s glad of it. It’s great to be with someone who knows how to make it good for both of them and it’s great to know that person will never stray.

“Ah, gods, Claude,” Byleth groans, gripping his hips just so.

A very drunk Felix once said he had contusions for a month from sex with Dimitri where his Crest activated while holding onto his sides. He’s inadvertently strong even without his Crest activating, so Felix was in severe pain. Claude doesn’t have to worry about that. Byleth has a lot more self-control and he knows the way to hold him just hard enough to be felt.

Twelve years and they’ve got it down to a science as to how to come simultaneously. Claude first, Byleth’s orgasm taking him as soon as Claude clenches around him the first time.

Claude pulls his husband into a deep kiss as he still shudders inside him. “I love you,” he murmurs against Byleth’s lips.

“Love you too,” Byleth agrees, sounding a little tired. They’ve had a lot of sex since midnight on just a few hours sleep.

“Breakfast, clothes, wrangle the kids,” Claude declares. “Sound good, love?”

“Sounds great.”

—

Immediately after they leave the monastery, Aron decides he wants a piggyback ride from Daddy, so Claude crouches down to let him jump onto his back and manages it so he can support his kid  _ and  _ hold his husband’s hand. Luna is thankfully content to hold Bastien and Byleth’s hands while Clair and Violet walk beside them.

“Daddy, we should go look at the horsies,” Aron says into his ear with no sense of volume control. 

“We see enough horsies at home,” Luna retorts. “I want to go see the shiny jewelry.”

“We should go to the bookstore,” Clair proposes. “Right, Vi?”

“Armory. We have to hit the armory,” Bastien decides.

“We will hit every place on our trip, okay? Let’s go to the furthest away place and make our way back,” Byleth says. 

It’s so cute to see him using tactics to plan a day trip to town rather than using tactics to fight a war. Life has changed so goddamn much. They’re finally at a place where they can be happy without fear that it’ll be ripped away.

There are whispers around them, speculating as to their identities, but Byleth pays that no mind. He focuses on their kids and him and their celebration of this special day.

Luna’s suggestion of going to look at the shiny jewelry was a good one because Claude needs to pick something up anyway. He put in an order with the jeweler for something special for Byleth’s birthday.

“Don’t tell Papa,” he whispers to Aron as he exchanges the necklace for a hefty bit of gold. He tucks it into his jacket pocket and goes to find his husband on the other side of the store.

“Hey, honey,” he says, taking Byleth’s hand again and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Daddy, your eyes look like emeralds,” Luna says, looking into the glass case at what looks like the world’s largest emerald set into a thin golden band.

“You have the same ones, princess,” Byleth says with a smile. “Vi, your eyes look a lot like the ring. Big and green with flecks of gold.”

Their eldest child blushes and shyly smiles. Even with seven years as their kid, she gets bashful about praise or kind words. It hurts Claude’s heart because he knows exactly why she’s so hesitant to accept it. He’s spoken to her about it, about his own abusive family and effects that still linger. She seems to be a lot closer to Claude than Byleth for that unique bond.

“Papa, what do our eyes look like?” Aron asks.

“Aquamarine,” Clair responds matter-of-factly.

“You and Bast have eyes like amethyst cut with gold,” Claude says to their middle child. “You are all the cutest kids I’ve ever met.”

“ _ Dad _ ,” Bastien groans, at that age where everything your parents do is embarrassing.

“Don’t you forget that I’m your dad, little prince. I get to say whatever embarrassing thing comes to my mind.”

“Stop calling me a prince.”

“But it’s your title, Prince Bastien Eisner von Riegan,” Claude reminds him.

Of all of them, Bastien is the one most resistant to his title. The twins have had their titles since their miraculous birth, so they’ve never known anything else. Violet is too polite to act put off (she reminds Claude a lot of Marianne that way) and Clair uses it as a weapon whenever Nader makes fun of her. Bastien loves his parents, but he hates their titles.

“I’m not a prince. I’m just an adopted commoner,” he says, almost bitterly.

“You’re my brother,” Luna says, throwing herself against him, soliciting a hug. “If I’m a princess, my brother is a prince.”

“Alright, Lulu, if you want me to be a prince, I’ll be a prince,” he says, picking up his baby sister.

Byleth is beaming at their children and leans over to kiss Claude. Aron scoffs, sounding too much like his Uncle Felix. “Gross, Daddies.”

“It’s our anniversary, Aron. We get to kiss however much we want,” Byleth says, ruffling the hair of the twin on Claude’s back.

“It’s time for the bookstore,” Luna declares from her brother’s arms.

“Bookstore it is,” Violet agrees.

—

“Uncle Dima! Uncle Due!” Luna shouts, sprinting toward the pair of giants. Dedue picks her up like she weighs nothing at all. He and Dimitri each give her a kiss on the cheek. She loves them for the same reason she likes going on rides on the back of Hilal — she likes to be up high. That, and the fact that they’re her loving and lovable uncles.

Claude greets them happily, not quite running like his daughter. “Meech, Dedue, great to see you.”

Dimitri gives him a hug and Dedue gives him the closest approximation of a hug that he can with the little one on his hip. 

“Is this party a surprise for your other half or can we go say hello?” Dimitri asks.

“Oh, he knows. Aron spilled the beans a few days ago.”

“He fucked up,” Luna says brightly. 

“Language, young lady,” Claude scolds. “Sorry. She’s six and she absorbs  _ everything. _ I’ve had to talk to Bast about watching his mouth around the twins. I’ve given up the battle of trying to control his language. I was doing much worse than swearing at fourteen, so I’ve let it go. Does that make me a bad parent?”

“Of course not,” Dimitri says. “I try to make Felix watch his mouth around my cousins, but it doesn’t stop him from swearing like a sailor at council meetings.”

Dimitri has a few cousins as a result of Rufus’s historic philandering, one who bears the Crest of Blaiddyd. He’ll inherit Areadbhar the way Sylvain’s niece is going to inherit the Lance of Ruin. Not from the main line, but carriers of the Crest all the same.

“Aren’t your cousins the same age as my eldest three kids?” 

“They are in their early and mid teens, yes. Born prior to Rufus’s assassination at the hands of Cornelia,” Dedue confirms. “Dimitri doesn’t want them to turn out like their father, so he’s sheltering them.”

“I’m probably not the best to give parenting advice, but you gotta let them spread their wings a bit. They probably won’t end up like Rufus. Hopefully, if they take after a skirt-chaser, it’s Sylvain.”

“That’s good advice,” Dimitri concedes. He very gently pokes Luna’s cheek. “Let’s go find your papa.”

—

“Birthday boy!” Sylvain exclaims, throwing his arms around Byleth and sloppily kissing his cheek. “You look half your age, you baby face. The Goddess doesn’t let you get old, huh? Forty? You look the same as you did when you cut your way out of a void.”

“He does,” Felix agrees. 

“He truly hasn’t aged in twenty years?” Clair asks. “That’s crazy!”

“We’ll tell you about it someday,” Claude tells her. They’re growing up fast and  _ someday  _ is approaching sooner and sooner. He’s terrified at the prospect of having to watch his children grow older and older and pass away, but that’ll be their choice to make.

“Where are our cousins?” Bastien inquires, looking around and seeing no one but Sylvain and Felix.

Felix adopted his cousins after the premature death of his uncle and aunt-by-marriage in a fire and they have Sylvain’s nieces and nephew as well.

“They’re in Fhirdiad with the Blaiddyd kids doing combat drills with Gustave,” Sylvain says sadly.

“Boo,” Clair says. “Are Uncle Ashe and Aunt Hapi’s kids there too?”

“Nope. The Ubert clan in its entirety is coming. Milo and Eman and Hazel too,” Claude says. Ashe’s sister Hazel is Eman’s maid of honor. Claude is so excited for his little sister’s wedding. The kids are in it, all of Eman and Milo’s nieces and nephews from Violet the eldest to Ariana the youngest.

“Alright, kiddos, who wants to take me to Uncle Dima?” Sylvain asks, kneeling down beside Bast and Clair.

Clair volunteers immediately, having taken a shine to Sylvain because he was one of the first people she met at Garreg Mach. Bast is a lot like Felix, so they follow behind together, talking about swordsmanship. That boy loves his swords. Claude’s going to make one of the twins like the bow since none of the older kids have really shown an aptitude. Probably Luna so he can pass on Failnaught to someone who can actually use it.

“Hey, honey,” Byleth says as their kids and guests walk away, stepping toward him and kissing his cheek before murmuring, “have I ever complimented your thighs?”

“What?” Claude asks, the giggly laugh that accompanies being a little embarrassing.

“They’re so toned and strong from riding wyverns all the time and I  _ really  _ want them around my head.”

“Did you catch contact horniness from Sylvain?” 

“I might’ve,” Byleth says with a laugh. “Want me to suck your dick right now?”

“I am  _ loving _ this side of you, but let’s continue to greet our guests and revisit this later when Abby, Ava, and Amelia are not running toward us.”

Byleth rolls his eyes, but crouches down and lets the littlest von Aegir jump into his arms as she gets close to them.

—

**_Day 5 of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1174_ **

**_The setting sun is hot._ **

“You’ll never have a wedding of your own.”

Claude tries his hardest to tune Sina out, but he and Yousef and Jamil are gathered around him at their father’s wedding reception, jeering and mocking.

“Why not? I’m meant to be king, aren’t I? I’ll probably be forced to marry multiple women I don’t want to,” he snaps back.

“If you live that long,” Yousef snaps. “It would be better for all of us if you just dropped dead. You’re pale as a corpse already.”

Ugh. His throat itches with tears that aren’t allowed to fall. “Fuck you. Fuck all of you.”

“Nobody in Almyra would dare marry a half-breed beast,” Jamil snarls, finally picking up the cruelty of his full-blooded brother. “You’ll have to find someone else to sully the bloodline. Nobody would follow your heir, someone barely Almyran.”

It’s true, he never sees himself getting married. He’d be a miserable husband, regardless of who his wife is or how many he’s forced to take. He’ll probably make a decree where he can choose his heir. Someone like Safiya. She’s kind and loving and would be a lot better for the kingdom than any of his brothers.

No bride he took would ever love him. He wants to be loved by  _ someone _ , but that’ll never happen. He’s going to be alone for the rest of his life.

—

**_Day 24 of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1199_ **

**_The night has cooled considerably._ **

Byleth goes missing in the middle of the party. Claude asks the adults, he asks the children, he asks everyone if they’ve seen his missing husband. He finds him outside, gazing up at the sky beside the grave of his parents. Right. The anniversary of his mother’s sacrifice.

“Hey, honey,” Claude says, laying down right beside him. “I thought I lost you.”

“You’ll always find me. I trust in that,” Byleth says, reaching over and taking Claude’s hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to check here first.”

“It’s just as likely that one of the kids or a friend tore me away. It’s alright, dearest. I’ve just been thinking of my mother a lot recently. Would she be proud of me? Would she love our children? I don’t know anything about her save for what was written in my father’s diary.”

“I’ve read your father’s diary too and I can say with absolute certainty that, were they here today, both of your parents would be immensely proud of who you grew up to become. A leader, a teacher, a father. They would admire you and love our family, even if it’s a little unconventional.”

Byleth smiles softly and squeezes Claude’s hand. “You really think so?”

“Jeralt had such a soft spot for you that he would undoubtedly love every grandchild you gave him, no matter the method they came to be yours. I feel like we’ll have more eventually. Once the ones we have get a little older, there will surely be more to come. There’s no shortage of children who need love and someone to nurture them.”

“I’d have a million kids with you if I thought we could handle it,” Byleth admits with a sweet laugh. “Dimitri and I, even though I wasn’t his professor, would train orphans in the monastery in swordsmanship back when I barely showed an emotion. He still does it in Fhirdiad, but I’ve gotten so damned busy as king that I’ve let it fall to Catherine.”

“I think that’d be a great thing for you and Bastien to do to bond. I know he’s been a bit distant because he’s at that age where his parents are the most embarrassing thing in the world, but he loves swords. He’s probably  _ still  _ chatting Felix’s ear off. If you set it as bonding time with Bast, it’ll be harder for you to let work get in the way.”

“That’s a great idea,” Byleth declares, giving Claude’s hand another squeeze. “One I think my dad would’ve really liked.”

“It’s a great way for a father to bond with his son. It’s how Jeralt bonded with you, right?”

“I had no personality to speak of, so I suppose weapons were the language my mercenary father had to use. I remember one of his second-in-commands was the one who taught me how to use a reverse grip with a dagger. I can’t remember the man’s name, but I remember my dad bandaging me up when I accidentally stabbed myself.”

“Please don’t let our son stab himself,” Claude says with a laugh, “but be sure to bandage him up if he does.”

“Of course, my love,” Byleth agrees. “I love you so dearly, my sweet prince.”

Claude’s stomach fills with butterflies. He  _ is  _ Byleth’s prince, isn’t he? He is, in fact, a prince of Fódlan by their marriage.

“I love you too, my dear king. Some days I can’t believe you married me, that you love me at all. Sometimes my mind gets stuck in Almyra when I was young and I can hear my brothers in my ear telling me how worthless and unlovable I am. That I’m a half-breed and a beast and I don’t deserve happiness. You and our kids would be a shock to that poor kid. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love or get married or start a family. That’s what was literally beaten into me.”

“I vow to spend the rest of my life ensuring you feel worthy of the love our family gives you. I hope you understand how in love with you I am.”

“I do,” Claude assures him, turning his head to kiss Byleth’s temple. “I love you too, my darling. I actually have a gift for you. I know we don’t do anniversary gifts, but I do love to remind you that we got married on your birthday.”

Byleth smiles and shakes his head. “Yes, I know. I’ll be giving you something for our official anniversary, just to shake things up.”

Claude smiles and reaches into his pocket. He produces a golden chain with a pendant in the shape of a valerian. 

“‘The look of joy on her face at the sight of these valerians will be even more beautiful than the flowers themselves,’” Claude quotes. “The day we read those words was the first time I let someone see me. I had no idea I would fall in love with you one day, but I never would have if you didn’t allow yourself to be vulnerable. It was worth Ashe and Dedue asking about our affair the next day.”

Byleth snorts and shakes his head. “I still can’t believe they did that.”

“They knew long before we did.”

Byleth sits up and Claude does beside him, allowing him to fasten the chain around his neck. Byleth’s hand covers the charm as he leans in to kiss his husband. Claude happily accepts the kiss, slipping his fingers into those pale green locks.

“Do you know how much I love you, Teach?”

“I think I have some sort of idea, my golden deer.”

—

“You look happy.”

Claude turns and sees his eldest child standing beside him. He throws his arm around her and pulls her close. “I  _ am  _ happy. I married the man I love nine years ago and we’ve had five beautiful children since then. All my friends and family are here — well, the ones on this continent at least. I’m happy to celebrate my anniversary and my husband’s birthday today.”

“Do you think I’ll ever find someone who makes me that happy, or is your love one in a million?”

“I think everyone feels like their love is one in a million, but I think you’ll definitely find a man or woman who makes you feel like this. I never thought to ask, which do you have a strong feeling toward either? Does it not matter?”

“I think I’d like to fall in love with a man someday.”

Claude smiles. “Alright. I have a son-in-law to look forward to.”

“Do you have a preference? Were you with anyone before Dad?”

“I was never in love before him, but I had… dalliances with both men and women. He, on the other hand, wasn’t emotionally literate for a very long time. He never felt any sort of romantic inclination until he realized he was in love with me. I guess I’m special.”

“You’re each other’s one and only.”

“I guess we are.”

“What’re we talking about, kids?” Hilda asks, slinging her arm around Violet from the other side.

“Dads being in love,” Vi replies. Hilda is one of the few people in the world that she’s not inherently terrified of. “They’re each other’s first and only love.”

“I don’t think that’s quite true anymore. Romantic love, sure, but they love each and every one of their children more than life itself,” Hilda tells her. 

“She’s not wrong, little  _ banafš _ ,” Claude says. “You five kids gave my life a meaning I never thought it’d have.” He kisses the side of his daughter’s head. “I love you so much. Your dad and I were just talking about how much your grandparents would’ve loved you.”

“ _ Mâdarbozorg  _ sure does,” Violet says bashfully.

“No, we were talking about  _ his  _ parents. Jeralt and Sitri. Sitri died forty years ago today. Jeralt has been gone for nineteen years. I knew Jeralt as the captain of the Knights of Seiros and my enigmatic professor’s enigmatic father. Jeralt would’ve undoubtedly called the five of you brats, just like he did all of Byleth’s students. I think he just used it synonymously with ‘kids’. You would’ve been  _ his  _ brats though. He loved nothing in the world like he loved Byleth, so having five little halves of him would’ve been wonderful.”

“Me and Bastien and Clair aren’t related to you though. We’re not half of each of you,” Vi says sadly.

“I’d beg to differ. You were born to someone else and you came to us when you were a bit older than most, but you’re ours. You remind me so much of Byleth. Soft-spoken and kind, patient and guiding. And you’re also a little like me, adorable to everyone and easily embarrassed by my mom.”

Hilda grins and nods. “You and Bast and Clair are just as much theirs as the twins are! We all have no idea how the twins came to be, but your dads  _ chose  _ the three of you. I remember asking them nine years ago today when kids would be coming along. They said they were just going to enjoy being married, but then they met you and your siblings and they fell in love. It was sooner than they thought, but they knew it was fate. They were made to be your dads.”

“Aunt Hilda is right,” Claude says. “We love you to pieces, kiddo.”

The kids had only been theirs for a month before a trip to Derdriu for Alliance Founding Day. They had been from Enbarr by birth and sent to Faerghus to live with their relative, so they’d never been to Alliance territory. It was a first for them to play on the beach  _ and  _ they got to meet their grandmother for the first time. It’s one of Claude’s fondest memories, their kids playing on the beach, building sandcastles and frolicking in the water. It hurts his heart that Violet still thinks they’re not really related because so many of his happy memories are tied up in those children.

He doesn’t cry often, but he did the very first time she called him Daddy. She was in Derdriu with Claude and she came down with the flu. He had no idea what to do. He was scared that something awful would happen, that she’d get sicker and sicker and die, even though the court physician assured him that that wouldn’t happen. He sat at her bedside for hours, holding her hand as she slept except for when he’d check her temperature by resting his hand on her forehead. He wished his mother was there to teach him what to do and wished that Byleth was there to calm him down. He didn’t have the luxury of either, so he had to sit there and worry. He thought she’d never wake up until she did in the middle of a coughing fit. He looked at her sick little wan face and she said  _ I don’t feel so good, Daddy. _ He wept and told her  _ I know, princess. _

“You’re my daughter and I love you,” Claude assures her, kissing the side of her head again. “You’re related to me and being your dad is a part of my identity, whether you like it or not.”

“I like it,” she declares. “I love you, Dad.”

“Aw, you’re such cuties,” Hilda says with a bright grin. “Remember, if you ever need to get away from him for a bit, you have countless aunties and uncles you can rely on. We’re not related by blood or marriage or anything, but we’d die for each other and you’re damn sure I’d take an arrow in the gut for any of you kids. Even Ant, and  _ he _ smashed my favorite vase.”

“Thanks, Aunt Hil,” she says with a smile. “I might have to kidnap Hilal and come visit you soon.”

“You know, Byleth said a few just hatched in the stables. One of them could be your very own wyvern. You wouldn’t have to steal mine if you had your own. Gods know you’ve had enough flying practice with Hilal.”

“Is that going to be one of your subjects when you start at the academy at the start of the year?” Hilda asks.

“Maybe. Bast is into swords and Clair likes to beat people up, so I feel like axe, lance, or bow are my options. Luna will be getting Failnaught eventually, so axe and lance are what Aron and I are left with.”

“You could always overlap. Do what makes  _ you  _ happy. If you wanna be a swordsman brawler, do it,” Hilda says, ruffling her orange hair. “If you wanna be a typical Almyran with an axe and a wyvern, make that your goal. If you wanna wield white and black magic, go for it. If you wanna talk to your other dad about it before making a decision, go ahead. If you change your mind halfway through the school year, that’s just fine. Just be yourself, Vi.”

“Goddess, I feel old. It feels like it was just yesterday that we were entering the Officers Academy and now my oldest baby is enrolling.”

“It’s been close to two decades. We were  _ teenagers _ ,” Hilda says dramatically. “Oh, the horror at growing old.”

Claude’s not physically growing old the way his friends are, but the sentiment is the same. The passage of time is so insanely fast. It’s been so long since they were just kids, yet to notch their first kill. Time has made veterans of them all, haunted living victims of war. Claude’s going to ensure his kids never have to face the harsh, unforgiving terrain of war.

—

“Hey, Dad,” Bastien says, sitting down at the table beside Claude. He’s holding his youngest cousin, Qimat’s son Jahan. She made the trek to Fódlan just for Byleth’s fortieth, six months pregnant. Jahan isn’t even a year old yet and is content to play with a ring on Bastien’s finger.

“How did you get stuck on baby watch?” Claude asks, gesturing for his son to hand him his nephew. Bastien looks relieved beyond words to be relieved of an infant.

“Aunt Qimat had to run to the restroom. She said I should give him to you or other Dad if I didn’t want the responsibility.”

“Aha. You didn’t want to spend time with your old man, you wanted to foist off a baby onto me.”

“No, I do want to spend time with you. Are you  _ sure  _ I can’t join the Officers Academy this next year?”

“Lysithea and Petra were the youngest in my year and they were both fifteen. You’ve got one more year, bud. I think you can make it.”

“Don’t I get  _ some  _ allowances for being a prince?”

“Oh, so you’re a prince when it suits you?” Claude asks amusedly as he rocks his fussy nephew.

“I mean, Lulu told me in no uncertain terms this morning that I have to be a prince since she’s a princess.”

Of course he’d invoke the baby sister. Luna has her older brother wrapped around her finger. He loves her to death and might actually kill the first person to break her heart.

“I’ll talk to your father and we’ll see, okay? Just let him enjoy his birthday before ambushing him about it.”

“Yeah, I will,” Bastien says excitedly, clearly pleased as punch that he’s even considering it. “Thanks, Dad.”

He doesn’t get a hug or a kiss like he would from his daughters, but he knows his son loves him just the same.

“Are you and Dad going to have any more babies?” Bast asks, looking at Jahan in Claude’s arms.

“That remains to be seen. We don’t know how the twins came to be, after all. We might have a new one tomorrow or five years from now or whenever. The Goddess works in mysterious ways, or something like that. And then there’s all the kids who need a parent to love them. Kids like you, who just need to be nurtured and cared for by a family of their own. It’s why we fell in love with you kids. You were frightened and alone and needed parents to love and take care of you. Of all the choices I’ve made in my life, adopting you and the girls was the best one I’ve made.”

“ _ Dad _ ,” Bastien groans, clearly embarrassed by the lovey dovey talk, even with nobody else to hear.

“I love you, kiddo, and I know it’s embarrassing for a fourteen-year-old to hear. It’s not a thing I heard much from my own parents, so I make sure you kids know.”

“Grandma didn’t love you?”

“She couldn’t be open with it because of my dad. When he died, she apologized for everything and I accepted the apology. Now she’s constantly saying she loves me, kinda like I do to you kids. When you grow up wishing it’s something someone said to you, it makes you want to tell the people you love exactly what they mean to you.”

“I love you too, Dad,” Bastien admits, almost like it pains him to say it. The teenagedom is strong with this one. “I really am grateful to you and Dad for making that decision to raise us.”

“Of course, kiddo. On the topic of more kids, do you want more siblings? We don’t have to wait for the Goddess to drop more babies in our lap for you to get more brothers and sisters.”

“Maybe wait until we’re out of the house first. I can’t imagine you juggling six or seven kids.”

“I don’t  _ want  _ you kids to leave the house,” Claude says with a laugh, “I want you to be my babies forever.”

“We’ll grow up eventually. You need to be prepared for that.”

Claude is sure this is a feeling most parents get, but he doesn’t want his little ones to grow up so fast. Especially not when they’ll have to make the decision whether or not to have eternal life someday soon.

“I’ll try my best, honey.”

—

Clair is probably their easiest kid. She’s a middle child, so she gets doted on by her older siblings and idolized by her younger siblings. It’s given her this happy balance. She gets in more fist fights than Claude would want, but she’s strong and she knows she can win.

She was the first of the older kids to acknowledge Claude and Byleth as her parents and dubbed them Daddy and Papa. She’s grown up a bit and calls them both Dad now, but the twins have adopted the names into their own vocabulary. If she’s trying to act cute to get her way, she certainly turns up the charm and uses their more specific names.

“Daddy, can I fight Uncle Caspar?” she asks with a mischievous glint in her eye that reminds Claude a bit too much of himself.

“What do you think the answer to that question is?” he counters.

“No,” she says sadly. “I’m almost as tall as him though!”

She’s not quite  _ there _ yet, but she’s been growing like a weed. She’s as tall as Marianne now and probably isn’t done growing. Her brother has almost eclipsed both Claude and Byleth in height. They come from a tall family tree it seems.

“When you’re as tall as him, you can fight him,” he says, ruffling his daughter’s hair. “Think of it, you’ll get stronger as you get older and he’ll get weaker. He’s basically an old man.”

“If he’s old, Papa is ancient.”

Ancient, eternal, divine. All of these things and more.

“He might be. Forty is elderly in some cultures,” he jokes. “He’s okay, though. Rhea was over a millennium old, so he’s not the oldest church official.”

“So, when are we getting a new brother or sister?” Clair asks, pivoting topics abruptly.

“That is yet to be seen. I was talking to Bast about it. He thinks we should wait until you leave the house.”

“I don’t wanna leave the house,” she declares, folding her arms across her chest confidently. “I’m going to live at home with one of my dads forever. Because that’s how long you’re going to live, right?”

Claude blanches. “How—”

“Papa looks like he’s barely twenty and he’s forty. He has the heart of the Goddess in him. You’re his husband, so maybe that magic extends to you. I don’t know how it works.”

“We’ll talk about this when you get a little older. Promise.”

“You better.”

Interrupting their conversation is his younger son running over to them.

“Daddy, I want to go to bed,” Aron declares. It’s long past his bedtime, but they made an exception for the party. It’s unlike either of the twins to  _ want  _ to go to bed.

“Why is that, honey?” Claude asks, dropping to a knee in front of the little one.

“I ate too much cake and don’t feel good.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Clair volunteers. “I’m getting pretty tired myself. C’mon, sugarplum. Let’s put you to bed.”

Aron is a special kid. He’s got an unidentified Crest, probably a result of being a child of the Goddess. He has his own Crest, but Luna has the Crest of Riegan. Byleth can’t pass on his Crest, it doesn’t seem.

Luna runs after them, clearly wanting to do whatever her twin is doing. “I already got a kiss from Papa, I need a kiss from you, Daddy. Then I can go to bed.”

Claude kisses each of the twins as he sends them off to bed with their sister. “Sleep well, kiddos.”

He loves each of his children so much. He loves them and he loves Byleth and he loves that he can have a family the way he does. He never envisioned himself in love or with a family and now he has both.

He’s content. He’s happy. He’s a father and a husband and a friend. He is all these things.

He’s fulfilled.


End file.
